Hollow
by WiseAbsol
Summary: On hiatus! Chosen as a dark god's consort, a woman struggles to form an identity while filling a role meant to undo it. With an ambiguous past, an uncertain future, and warring factions set against her, her sole chance for salvation may rest in the one who doomed her: Mewtwo. A counterpoint to Meriah's "Eclipsed" series, on which the premise for this story was based.
1. Prayer

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, the OC of Arei (who was originally the creation of Meriah), or the quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson.**_

**A.N.: **Hello again dear readers. As you can derive from the summary, this is yet another Mewtwo fanfiction from me…and one, suffice to say, that should hardly be called 'new', all facts considered. Hints for this story have been on my profile for years…but now, after struggling for longer than I care to admit, it's ready to be posted. The next chapter will have a rundown of its history…for now I'm not going to bother you with it.

At any rate, many thanks to Louisa and Dark Magician Girl Aeris for their help…I love you both so much!

Enjoy the prologue!

**P.S.:** 1.) Try to pay attention to the dates; and 2.) the psycho-blabber/quotes that begin each chapter convey the theme of that entry. If necessary, warnings about content will be posted in the **A.N.**.

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- H O L L O W -

_**Date - February 7th, 112 P.A. (Post Apocalypse) / 2116 A.D. (Anno Domini):**_

_When will 100 summers die,_

_And thought and time be born again,_

_And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,_

_Bring truth that sways the souls of men?_

_Here all things in their place remain,_

_As were all order'd ages since,_

_Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,_

_And bring the fated Fairy Prince._

_- Alfred Lord Tennyson, "The Sleeping Palace." _

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AREI:

…A fat and elderly Pidgey preens itself on the windowsill of my cell, running its pink, blunt beak through the white and brown feathers of its wings, its wide, dark eyes staring into the dimly illuminated room I am trapped within, spying me humbled and in solitude. The bronze light of sunset silhouettes its form in the slit of an opening that acts as a portal to the outside world, and which is nowhere near wide enough to push even my leg through, as small and thin as I am.

One should understand that I haven't tried to escape in such a manner. I don't have any desire to risk my modesty to the guards that patrol the courtyard around the prison; who lurk in the halls beyond the locked and heavy steel door that I'd been led through hours before this point. However, though we are essentially separated by these firm barriers, the walls don't stop their hisses and taunts from reaching my ears.

'_Traitor'…'witch'…'whore'…. _I am being called all of those things; being charged with those treasonous labels.

It arouses only so much emotion in me now.

My anger evaporated soon after I realized that no one was listening to my pleas. Once I had realized how utterly ensnared I was, that fury had been replaced by a calm, dark sort of acceptance of what was happening, of verity mingled with sorrow. Pushing my simple meal to the bird - a chunk of white bread - I silently muse on those derogatory labels.

'Traitor' is false, of course. I haven't had treacherous thoughts since before I was placed in my god's services - it was an unavoidable alteration of perspective. Certainly since then I have had my doubts; my scoffing, sarcastic moments in which I'd expressed my less-than-worshipping opinions of my high lord. But he had always been amused by this, while others had gaped at my words.

Yet I am still loyal. I have _not_ done what they've accused me of…!

…As for being a 'witch'…this is preposterous. I am not a Holy Child…I'm completely human. And while there are those in my race who do possess extra-sensory abilities, I am not of that rare category. Besides, even if I were, I would not have tried to bewitch my superior! I am not a creature of personal ambition, unlike _some_ I could name! Furthermore, my god is extremely powerful…I highly doubt I could have seduced him with "sorcery."

I assume that label has something to do with the final insult: 'whore.'

I actually do take offense to this last slur…mostly because it was true a couple years ago. However, I chose prostitution as my occupation for strategic reasons, not out of perverse inclinations. A slut can slip into places no one else may go…she (or he, I suppose) may slit her lover's throat as he sleeps naked in her bed, or coo him into revealing information that could proves useful to her fellows. It's almost laughably easy…as long as you act the fool, people will give you a surprising number of whispered secrets. Persuading them to drink heartily helps lubricate the process and erases their dire mistakes.

A shame really, that I never got the chance to try my hand at it. Then I truly would be a guilty heretic.

Yet I was a pleasure woman, not a spy, and despite the label, pleasure for myself was uncommon - although I sometimes did cling to the connection to sooth stress and get to sleep. Most of the time though there was only discomfort and some amount of pain in the task of satisfying another individual.

Perhaps it's fortunate then that my heart had already been too embittered to be effected by the things my body was inflicted to.

…But as I stated, that was in the past. I am no longer poly-amorous.

A more apt description would be that I'm now a lover to a _single_ person. Of course, since he and I hid our relationship fairly well (though I suspect there are dozens of beings who know the truth…I know of one entire group who does in certainty), I am certain others think that I've fallen back on my "old ways." The idea is ridiculous for more reasons than I can list.

But I'm certain this term has only come up because I've had a child.

My heart twists as I think of my son…my little Jonah; my sweet, little dove. He's the infant I never should have been able to have, but by some miracle was blessed with. Does his father hold him now as the twilight falls? Or is my partner pacing, trying to find a way to save me from the death sentence I'm likely facing? He _promised_ me he would keep me from meeting such a fate. I am his wife, his mate, the mother of his child…he refuses to allow me to die because of some _human_ folly.

But how successful, how persuasive could he possibly be, against hundreds of people who think him to be ensorcelled?

I wondered…if we told the truth, he and I - revealed to the public our union - would we face this disaster? Or was it inevitable either way? With the Council of Priests, the Rebels, and the blindfolded people all against us…could we find salvation through exposing to them all that we shared…?

No. They wouldn't accept it - there are too many regulations that have been too long imparted on these people to avoid having us be torn down by them if we spoke out. A High Priestess serves her god in any way she can…including giving him an heir, in my sole case. But no more than that…otherwise she, a mortal, becomes equivalent to a Goddess like Ai. And no one wants more power to be given to a mere human, no matter what her status. Ironic actually…because as I stated before: I have no desire to rule. I am not a tyrant.

I'm just a doomed empress.

By Jehovah…I have not even told my husband that I love him, have I?

The thought sickens me as much as my supper has done to the gluttonous bird that has eaten my offering. The avian pokemon sways against the stone before growing still, its eyes turning waxy. Within a few more moments it ceases to breathe and dies…as I suspected, my meal was poisoned. I have long since emptied out my pitcher of water onto the floor in suspicion of similar toxins. I yearn to quench my thirst and hunger, but if I am to die, I will do it under the gaze of my mate. Perhaps, by some slim chance, I'll be able to tell him how much I care for him. He has already made it clear that the feeling would be requited….

I…I can be well certain that our relationship was not entirely of lust and manipulation. What we shared was far too intimate for that. Certainly it began shallow enough - a beneficial friendship made that inevitable. Still…he had been happy…passionate at times, as had I.

Perhaps that was enough….

Sighing wearily, I let my mind wander on memories of us and of our little one; of all the moments that we had spent together, both the good and bad alike. Abruptly, for the first time in hours, the desire to weep rose in my tight throat and burning eyes, but I held it at bay. If I was to cry, it wouldn't be now. I had known this fate was coming, after all…one way or another, I couldn't have escaped it: for no Priestess has ever lasted beyond two years in this realm. Could I truly believe that I might _possibly_ be the exception of that rule…?

Mewtwo believed so. But I….

I know it will take a miracle for my life to be saved….

…I hear people at my door. Judgment, and not of the divine kind, has arrived.

I pray for us now.

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**A.N.:** Well, who's intrigued? Be kind and review.

- WiseAbsol


	2. Soul

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or Arei. **_

**A.N.: **As promised, here is the cliffnotes history of "Hollow" – at the very least, Meriah deserves to know what took me so long.

_Years 2003-2005:__ At some point, I read the first two entries in Meriah's "A Break into the Psyche" and fell in love with it. Yet when going over my Favorites later, I was dismayed to see that it had been deleted by her due to Mary-Sueish traits in Arei._

_December 2005:__ I asked Meriah to let me to write the lost version, since ideas had been forming in my head with how it could have gone. (She had changed the story to concern Replica-shipping, not a priestess.) In the end, she gave me her permission. She also stated that she might pick up the original format later, and so gave me none of her plot details – that way, our stories would be two different versions with the same base idea. Also, she was unable to find the first released version, so I had my memory to go on, nothing more._

_August-September 2006:__ Months passed, and I'd gone through a number of incarnations of how to begin the story, whose name I'd altered to "Orchid Eyes." Suffice to say I'd lost my ideas from my original brainstorming sessions. Nonetheless, I posted a few chapters of the story I barely knew how to write. Except for the most dominant ideas, I had no clue how the plot would go, or really what I was doing. It showed. I made the same mistake that had made Meriah abandon Arei. Only one good thing came from this: I found my first beta, Louisa._

_November 2006:__ Regardless, the attempt was unsalvageable. I took the pathetic thing off , and decided to write it up fully and revise it before sending it to Louisa._

_Summer of 2007:__ With a surplus of time on my hands, I compiled everything I had on Project "OE" and printed it off. I wrote up new plot ideas, details about the world and its inhabitants, and chapter summaries. In a few days I organized what I had, and finally had something to work with. It was the most planning I'd ever done for a story. Later on I wrote the story up (in third person POV) in a notebook, and then began to type it out and send chapters to Louisa for further revision. I ended up handing the prologue to DMG Aeris, wondering what she'd think of it - she became my second beta soon after._

_Late 2007-Early 2008:__ Work progressed slowly…the title was changed, and I decided, "Screw it; I'm releasing this version the way I do my other fics!" Hence, we have "Hollow" after roughly three years._

Thanks for allowing me to rant. Enjoy Entry I (it's in Roman numbering for a reason)!

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**- ENTRY I. -**

_**Date – February 8**__**th**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

_How does a soul come to be? Throughout humanity's existence as a conscious race, our scientists and philosophers have debated furiously over that question, sparring faith with logic. Was a soul a blessed gift from God, or was it engrained into a person's genetics and brought to fruition through an individual's life experiences? Geneticists, who took up the power of creation, strangely preferred the theological view, enjoying the thoughts of themselves becoming akin to a mortal Almighty. Others, who were creatures of doubt, mused on the latter option, for much could be told about a person's mind from the occurrences they had endured in their lives. Yet if the latter concept were true, than what of those who were made and grown to adulthood; those _without _empathic abilities which would allow them to form from the psyches of surrounding beings? Do THESE creatures possess souls? Or are they merely bodies and nothing more? And what of those who forget their lived years through amnesia, whether artificially-induced or accidental? How can we explain their behavior if they have forgotten all of their experiences? Perhaps the lessons of life have ingrained themselves in the individual on a subconscious level. Still…if one cannot recall who they are…if one has forgotten those lessons…if to oneself they had never been before that moment…then what do they become?_

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_In my beginning, there was no heaven or earth or light: there was unrelenting chaos. If I tried to reach back before the instability, a force of darkness and agony assaulted me, blooming within my mind like a growth of malevolent ivy, which sought to tear my sentience into senselessness. That time was rife with delusions, resembling the slumber of a fever patient: thoughts bled together; and images from dreams and reality melted into a toxic sludge. Turmoil grasped me firmly whenever I tried to make sense my world, declaring my attempts at comprehension futile. After all, it is the nature of madness to be incapable of adapting to your hallucinations. Suffering, as a result, is inescapable – I could not become inured to it. _

_Yet during the rare incidences where some faint inkling of understanding developed in my brain, I comprehended that this imprisonment in mental hell was not natural or correct. I did not know what sanity was however: I had never experienced it before! So in consequence of possessing that inexplicable belief, my condition worsened. After all, a sentient being is not supposed to run on mere instinct and emotion…not on a primary level. _

_We need to think._

_At some point when I was trapped within the imaginary firestorm, I thrashed in my attempts to break the invisible bindings that held me from consciousness. As always, I met failure; the suffering continued, and I still did not understand why I must endure it. Fear, anger, defiance, all swirled and sharpened in the nightmarish whirl I was drowning in. Tears ran down my face, burning like acid. I wanted out! I wanted OUT!_

_Vaguely, thoughts arose, after what might have been years of disjointed reasoning: _Someone help me! Someone! Am I alone…? Am I the only person left? And…who am I? Where am I…? Jehovah, what is this?

_The agony I felt mutated into something altogether worse than before: it became piercing, fiery, and as unbearable as a blade thrust into the body I could now feel. Like a spear it punctured my chest, thrusting fast between my ribs, driving deep to stab into my heart. A sound erupted: a scream…I was screaming…my spine arched violently…I was dying as I fell back into the black of nothingness. Yet somehow I felt infinitely grateful for what would surely be final _peace_…even though I had never known what it meant to be alive._

(…Awaken, woman. If you continue to cling to your night terrors, you will die. And that I cannot allow…not quite yet.)

_The voice…it was sonorous, smooth…_real_…and it beckoned me. He, whomever he was, called for me…and I obeyed him, merely because I felt that he was the only whole thing I knew in certainty…._

I opened my eyes, and in that moment swiftly forgot about him and the chaos.

The world sprang into focus, and the shock of it made me reel with vertigo and an intense feeling of violation. I promptly began to retch, my stomach forcing up its little content: a slimy, transparent liquid with wisps of tan caught inside. By some miracle I remembered to lean over the side of the bed I was in to avoid being covered in the mess. What I vomited afterwards was thin and acrid, and so disgustingly sour that I almost regurgitated again:

It was bile - yellow bile.

My body shuddered painfully as it continued to dry heave, my ribs aching at the motion…I couldn't control the trembling. Then, as quickly as the sickness had struck, weakness followed. Any strength that had allowed me to rise seeped away with the act of nausea, and I collapsed, my breathing heavy and quick as I sought to make the room stop spinning. Forming cohesive thoughts was a chore: after what seemed like an eternity of confusion, my brain throbbed and hurt, refusing to allow me to do anything but observe my surroundings (and even then, my eyes didn't wish to focus on things that weren't reeling like I was).

I…was lying in a bed of silks, the same brightness of white as the light robes I was wearing, their feel sweet and comforting. They smelled of cucumber and chamomile, their names and purposes coming to me hesitantly: they were soothing scents. A part of me was grateful for such thoughtfulness, and I grasped the fabrics tightly, holding onto the terrifyingly potent sensation that my working senses gave me. There was no bewilderment. It…it just was. I would have wept had I the strength to sob!

The room itself…it appeared to be a bedroom of some kind. The stone walls were made of what seemed to be pale marble, and the rugs on the floor were dyed in various tones of mauve and puce. There were doors to other rooms, some of which were open, but I could scarcely make out their contents in the gloom they possessed. What furniture there was in this chamber was made of well-polished mahogany, and there were scrolls, books, and numerous scented candles held in ceramic-ware (which caught the melted wax). None of the candles were lit - there was no need, for it was dawn outside. Taking my eyes away from the simple elegance of the place, I allowed my eyes to wander to the windows-.

-And promptly jerked to sitting position at seeing that I was not alone.

The creature there glanced at me as I gave a soft, startled cry, but then returned to staring out the open window. The intense, violet hue of his fierce eyes caught the warm glow of the morning and made it scorching. I'll admit it openly - that gaze made me wary, even fearful. It was harsh and icy somehow; the eyes of a predator animal who held the awareness of sentient intelligence. It provided no warmth or kindness, and perhaps I should not have expected such: this was evidently not a human, though some of his features resembled such.

After a second, interest won out over fright. He…yes, I knew it was male, and I would later speculate that this was a result of his clearly masculine voice invading my nightmares, baritone and definitely of the opposite sex. Yet that matter aside, he seemed to me a blend of humanoid and feline features, twisted with a demonic edge that affected the hostile feeling I received from him. In my state, I knew what I was right then: weak, ignorant, and quite possibly only something to be used by him. I also understood that there was absolutely nothing I could do about that.

But despite those facts, he was the first other being I could remember seeing - and this resulted in a certain amount of curiosity (among one reaction) at the time.

Again, he spoke. (_Try not to move too swiftly. The disorientation you are experiencing should not be provoked.)_

The statement was caught somewhere between a command and a forceful suggestion. Regardless of the tone, it was quietly said, gentle as it filtered into my mind and not my ears. I could not explain this phenomenon, but did not think it odd. Who was I to know how creatures talked? I had never really spoken.

Instead of wondering too much about that, I let his words flow into my brain, which was pounding and struggling to work. I only understood the simplest meaning: do not move fast, or more dizziness would come. I did not want that at all, so by some instinct - something primal and helpless, like an infant with a father - I clung to the sound of his voice. Despite how frightening he was, he seemed to care for my well-being…and that was enough for the child I was (in mind) to throw my dependency onto him.

Like a gosling with the mother goose, the first creature I saw would become the being I followed and needed.

Eventually, I would grow out of this stage. But for now, it would be the basis of my relationship with him.

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MEWTWO:

She had not screamed. It was quite a welcome thing, if one discounted how she was staring.

I do not believe she knew was to make of me, which came as no surprise: humans and pokemon alike scarcely ever did, no matter how many months had passed since I had met the individual or group - and it was a thing I did not mind in the least. I preferred to keep others off balance whenever possible, for their uncertainty made them by far easier to subtly manipulate. Ignorance also helped immensely in this task – its only unfortunate con being that when it was lifted, there arose problems of defiance and resentment, attitudes which could last for years, aggravating one deeply as time passed and the person had yet to change.

Of course, in some this was rather amusing to watch…especially when that being could do nothing to change the situation around them….

However, I am straying into musings not presently appropriate – this delicate situation needed to be handled thoughtfully. It had taken some time to set up this meeting as I had wished, and it had been rather more difficult than I found pleasing. However, if I were cautious now, this could prove to benefit me immensely in the future. A newly mended mind and newly born soul could go numerous ways after both had been broken, and the paths they could wander down could lead to a great deal of trouble if they were the wrong ones.

After what seemed like countless failed tries (and a few successes), I knew what I should do: treat the female with reassurance and sooth the confusion. Do not overload the blank mind with too much information or ideals early on, at least not in the initial hour. She would not understand, especially without the residual knowledge that most women in her position were left with: I had been unable to take any chances with this vessel. For that reason, at least primarily, she needed special treatment. In a month or so, she would be reeducated enough that I could let her walk along her own path and resume my usual isolated status. Until then, I would need to stay by her side almost constantly to avoid her immediate death over some sort of blunder, whether it be political trouble or not.

Yet that did not seem to be such a horrible thing. An annoyance perhaps, but I knew all too well that time was swift to pass. If she would not stare at me so, like some child to a guardian, I would be perfectly content with her presence. After all, she was not a diseased or even ugly individual, nor did she possess a distasteful personality from what little I could glean from her aura at this point. She seemed rather calm, if timid, and like most of her race, quite curious. As long as she did not bombard me with questions, there would be no problem here. And as I inferred, she was a pretty, if frail, thing. Being rather petite, her limbs were slim, her body almost childish in its slenderness, despite the gentle curves that indicated a mature form that was post-pubescent. Her skin was clear, yet starkly pale for this climate of sun and heat…I suspected she had foreign genetics, likely from the Northern Regions from her other features: the long, dark purplish hair, rather feathery in appearance…the pale pink lips…the wide, innocent looking red-violet eyes, the 'orchid' color from the long-dead Crayola Company Crayon hues. Strange, that I would recall something as insignificant as a colored wax to describe the shade after all these years. I had a guess as to where I had obtained such imagery, but did not linger on the thought as I saw the girl attempting to rise.

Her motor functions and balance could not handle that act.

I might have held her up with my telekinetic abilities, but that would have meant taking her weight from her limbs and bare feet, and that would not do at all. How else was she to rehabilitate if she had psychic energy holding her up?

No; my first priority was to make sure she could walk to where the Council of Priests and her Attendant were waiting, and she would have to walk there on her own two feet, learning her way around as she did so.

So, seeing how she was going to cash to the ground, I stepped forward, my tail lashing to her so she might catch herself upon it. She did so, her legs shaking violently under what I knew was a light weight. No matter - her brain would have to recall how the stand before she could use those legs to move, and for the sake of appealing to her consciousness in this in integral moment, I was willing to help her hold herself up. Eventually, she stopped struggling, regaining her bearings.

I pulled her a step forward.

Again, she nearly crashed to the ground, almost stumbling into me on the way…but her limbs held. Silently, I prodded her, making her practice in the next few minutes. Like a toddler, she gained the ability to walk to the wall, and used it to hold herself up. After that, movement became easier on her part as she learned her body's limitations and proportions.

After sensing she was generally ready, I asked her, (_Do you believe you will be able to follow me, High Priestess Arei? We have someplace we must be.)_

She tilted her head at me quizzically. And then, in a very soft, smooth voice, she murmured, "…What…did you call me?"

I faced her fully, but did not touch her again. (_High Priestess Arei: it is your title, and your name - Arei._)

As she heard this, a tentative smile curled her lips. "It's…pretty. I like it." Then, she met my eyes, not wincing at my gaze - a mildly surprising thing. "And what's your name?"

Only then did I notice her scent: it was of lilac. I turned away from her, wondering if someone had added that to her clothes as a sly joke, being aware of the fragrances I enjoyed. Not bothering myself with it, I told her who I was. (_To you humans, I am called Abaddon._)

The sunlight filtered into the window, her shadow meeting mine….

(_My title is that of God._)

And Arei, though she did not know it yet, belonged solely to me now.

I beckoned her forward with a glance. (_Come with me then. We must not keep everyone waiting too long._)

And so I stepped forward, and obediently, she followed behind me….

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**Author's Note:** Review, if you would be so kind.

Some people, by the way, may recognize this sequence from Meriah's take on this story and my attempt - to avoid the issue of making Arei a Mary Sue, I screwed with her awakening quite a bit. Puking and not being able to walk should hopefully eliminate your opinions of her being perfect and whatnot. She's a child. Intelligent, but extremely naive, especially when it comes to being social. For now, that's all I have to say on the matter.

- WiseAbsol


	3. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon or Arei (but I have permission to use her).**

**Author's Note: **There are several things about this story that I wished to have mentioned at the beginning, but due to it being a prologue, I didn't feel it appropriate to say. I will disclose that information now, seeing as how those who are currently reading may continue to actively pursue "Hollow," whether they review to express their interest or not.

First, "Hollow" is rated M for some sexual description; character deaths; and for mature themes concerning genocide, war, and religious hypocrisy. Due to the context of this fic, there are numerous references and parallels to Judeo-Christian stories. As an agnostic, I would appreciate if you all take it with a grain of salt (in my mind, religion is a vast part of human culture, and I believe it to be a powerful element to be used in literature – that's all. My own beliefs are not ones expressed in this story). In explanation of Mewtwo alternative name, Abaddon is the Angel of the Abyss in Revelations. He is considered by several circles to be an equivalent to Satan or the anti-Christ; the keeper of the keys to the underworld; but most prominently, the one who ends the world. This, you will find, is very fitting for Mewtwo in this fic. As well, understand that this story concerns an Alternate Universe: Mewtwo will possess his New Island character, not the wanderer persona he gains in "Mewtwo Returns."

On a more personal note, "Hollow" is also an echo of my response to the September 11th attacks, and the resulting "War on Terror." I had only recently turned ten when the Trade Centers were destroyed, so of course, I didn't understand what was going on. Arei's own world (though I didn't realize what I was doing when I was writing it) has its equivalents. As selfish as it may be of me, this was my way of confronting those times.

Some final notes: keep in mind the genre as you read – the flaws of the characters may lead to their downfalls. Also, the main theme of this story happens to be loyalty, or the lack thereof: Arei is supposed to be an embodiment of this virtue.

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- E N T R Y II. -

**_Date – February 8__th__, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:_**

_First impressions are integral to human interactions. Many do not like to recognize this fact, but it is something we cannot deny: that after the initial meeting, our thoughts are colored about the person from then on forward. Take this example: a young man and woman sit across a table from each other. One, trying not to become involved with anyone (because she believes she will be taken to live with her mother in the next year), sits alone and reads a book, ignoring everyone else. She wants to avoid the pain of losing any new friendships she might gain. The other, the boy, is slightly intrigued by the newcomer, and wishes to make her feel welcome. Immediately, she is suspicious of him. Having not been treated well by males in the past, she thinks he is trying to hit on her. When she swiftly rebukes what she thinks is a creepy advance, he comes to believe that she's a nasty bitch. Though these two would later discover the mistakes made in this encounter, it would affect their interactions for years to come. They keep apart, never knowing they have much in common. There are other, far more potent examples. Yet let us leave it at the fact that first impressions are lasting. If you screw them up, there may be dire consequences - even deadly in cases. One of the most well-known of examples is in politics: mess up, and it may cost you your life._

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AREI:

Trying to keep up with him was not an easy thing: despite practice, my limbs were fighting to do as my mind desired. I nearly stumbled twice as we entered the hallways; and the stairs, suffice to say, were the most difficult thing I had ever encountered. It took a full twenty minutes to get down the stairwell that God Abaddon had managed to descend in under two minutes. By the time I joined him, he seemed to have grown very aggravated due to the delay I had caused. My only excuse was that I had been terrified of falling down the uneven surface - but I didn't voice this fear to him. Still, the tumble would have certainly hurt, and knowing pain quite better than I would have liked, I wished for no more of it…especially when it could be avoided by being careful.

Almost noiselessly he sighed in exasperation, as if he could sense what had made me so tentative, and without a word led me onwards. The hallway we stepped down had no windows, but upon its walls hung vividly colored tapestries, which shown of the elements and creatures of what seemed to be divine power. I could not tell clearly all of what they depicted, for the only faint light around us came from low-flickering torches, which gave off a scent of incense and myrrh as they burned. The acrid scents only proceeded to make me still, and standing there, I began to cough hoarsely and rub at my prickling eyes - it stung!

God Abaddon paused ahead of me. He appeared unconcerned with my response to the fragrance, instead seeming to contemplate some other matter. When we moved on, coming to a doorway curtained with ebony fabric, he said to me: (_Before we meet with these people, there are some facts of which you must be informed. First, as my High Priestess you rank above any other in this realm, save for me. This means you will obey me solely, Arei – no one else has the right to give you commands. However, they must follow your orders, even if they are the most atrocious of tasks. For example…making an individual drown himself in the sea. I do not suggest you abuse your power in such a way though - that has been known to lead to wretched ends for priestesses._)

His words confused me. "What…what does 'drown' mean?"

He seemed startled, his eyes narrowing somewhat. (_It…to drown means 'death through the inhalation of water.' Why do you ask?_)

I did not answer his inquiry, but only questioned him further. "And what is 'death?'"

This time his surprise was openly apparent to me, as it contorted his expression. The truth of the matter was that I did have some idea of what 'death' was; I only wished for a precise definition. He answered me after some thought on how to explain the term. _('Death' is…it is an eternal sleep. You have no working senses; you no longer interact with others. There are many variations of what supposedly comes after your life is extinguished, including your soul travelling to such provinces as Hell, Heaven, or versions of Paradise. In this particular kingdom, the belief is that souls reincarnate – they leave the perished body and reside in a newly born one. However, I do not think this makes dying any less disturbing._)

Out of these statements, my focus was snagged on one or two of the first words: 'sleep'; 'eternal sleep.'

He…in a complex and strange manner, he seemed to be describing my nightmares. With some fright, I wondered if he knew what that meant to me. I quivered, and abruptly found myself panicking: I did not want to go back there! Gazing up at him then, my voice shook as I asked, "H-how do I avoid 'death?'"

He stared at me for a moment, before looking away, his eyes growing vague and unfocused. _(…There are many precautions to be used for one in your position. The first of which is that you must not eat or drink anything that has not been tested by myself beforehand. In relation, do not climb into your ceremonial baths before checking the water for transdermal toxins – for chemicals that can be absorbed through the skin. I shall show you how later._)

(_Also, avoid meeting or going anywhere with someone you do not know, especially if that draws you away from my presence and the Temple grounds. If people say this departure is to meet me, go to my quarters first, and check to see if I have left a message for you telling you this is so. Similarly, do not invite people into your quarters whom I have not approved. Otherwise, their presence there may cause some serious issues.)_

(_Last…do not allow anyone to touch you. Rumors of scandalous behavior, no matter how false, can be as dangerous to you as a loaded gun, Arei_.)

I took that in, taking out the key elements of his advice. Seeing that I was still listening intently, he continued on: (_You should know, Priestess, that there are many who will resent you for your position as my second-in-command. You have a power that frightens them, even with the considerable duties you must undertake with that power: aiding me in ceremonies; being my advocate in meetings I cannot attend…there are other, lesser ways you may serve me, but we shall not go into the finer details at this moment._)

(_Suffice to say that your position at my side is a dangerous one, and there will be those who seek to use you because of it. If they find they cannot, they will attempt to kill you in order to try to seduce the next High Priestess who will take your place. I will not delude you into believing that I can keep you completely safe. Your security is primarily yours to uphold, for I cannot be there for you every hour of each day and night. I have my own tasks to pursue, as you do. However…you may trust me, Arei. And I advise you, trust only me.)_

(_Otherwise, my warnings now are likely futile. So heed my words well, woman - if you do not, you will not last long in this world_.)

Having nothing more to say, he went on ahead of me, pushing the fabric covering from the entranceway into the next room without touching the curtain itself. My brain was reeling on what he had said, yet I knew I couldn't merely stand there to try to come to grasps with it. So, trembling slightly, I followed him, as I knew I must.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

My words had frightened her deeply. In my mind, this was a good thing: she needed to possess a certain amount of fear if she was to survive. The emotion would induce caution, and that sense of wariness was integral in keeping her alive. Its antithesis - recklessness - was a thing which slew her kind swiftly, like a hawk devouring rabbits who dared to eat the clover in the predator's open field. If my High Priestess was not careful, she would be ensnared and dispatched with as much ease.

Seeing how she timidly followed me into the vast main hall, much like the metaphorical rodent, I told her to stand up straight and calm herself. No human appreciated a meek Priestess – not even if she could be manipulated with more ease. With some satisfaction, I noted how she followed my command: lifting her head and correcting her composure. As I sat down in my parody of a throne, the girl sat near my feet, upon the top step of the dais we perched upon, and looked out over the grand room. Even after having viewed it for decades now, I could still appreciate and savor the magnificence of it. It blended its grandeur with subtle, delicate details in design, which made it a masterpiece among the other fine works of this Temple.

Almost as large as the main chamber of the New Island palace I had built so long ago, it was constructed from pale stones of marble, the snowy tone seeming sprinkled with gusts of peppery dust upon its surface. To either of the lengthy side walls, there were sturdy pillars which held up the weight of the high ceiling. This concave structure was painted in the hues of the night sky, and gazed down upon us with the myriad silver pinpricks of the stars. The precisely placed constellations glimmered with the reflected light of hidden electrical panels, whose whitish glow was cast upon the metallic points through the use of mirrors. In the center of the swooping artwork was a crystal orb which represented the moon, and this gem glistened beautifully with a vastly appealing opal iridescence.

From where Arei and I sat, we had a full view of the proceedings on the ground level. The white-robed, middle-aged men of the Councils of Priests had entered before us - many of them I recognized, for they had been voted from their twelve noble houses into their positions decades ago. I did not mind the familiarity; after all, it is better to have an "enemy" you know than a stranger you did not. Of all the groups my new Priestess needed to be cautious around, it was this one. It was their membership, more than any other faction, which held the responsibility for the deaths of so many of her predecessors. _They_ were the ones who would seek to use her, in the hopes that she could persuade me to their ideals. As well, they would doubtlessly attempt to ensure that she would help them to gain a certain _other_ thing they desired….

Seeing us enter and sit, they stood from their seats and bowed low with half-feigned respect. More than one gave the child beside me an analytical look - already the wheels and cogs in their calculated brains were spinning, trying to decipher whom this new women was, and how she might later come to be used to their advantage. However, they - like me - would have to wait until she gained a greater understanding of our world, teachings, and customs. To attempt to seduce her now, in her ignorance, would ultimately prove to be a useless endeavor. After a moment, seeing the nod of acknowledgment I gave to them, they sat back down in their own seats. Their large chairs were carved of ancient mahogany, of the same type as the table they surrounded: the valuable and classical wood was the preferred choice in this land. Its dark, burgundy color, so like shadows mixed with blood, incited much delight. It was indeed very fitting for the land I controlled.

From one of the entrances along the side walls, a far younger, less-corrupt man arrived. He traveled down one of the slopes to the main floor lightly, his grey-violet robes waving from the wake of his steps. His chestnut hair was tied back in a miniscule, short braid, and his olivine eyes flickered up to us, observing us thoughtfully. Attendant Byron was the descendant of the very first in his position, as the occupation was passed down from father to son. This Attendant I knew to be quite capable, and, fortunately for Arei, would be quite dependable and loyal to the High Priestess he was charged with. He had already made this point by not entering with the Priests. As he would not have wanted to keep us waiting, I suspected he had been lingering outside, waiting for the old men to signal that we had come. When he looked upon me, I noted how his eyes flashed, the emotion in them caught between grief, anger, and acceptance. I knew perfectly well what was upsetting him, but did not allow it to bother me. He would have to deal with his personal tragedy in his own time - right now there were other matters to attend to.

He stood before us and bowed deeply, the hems of his robes softly brushing the tips of Arei's toes. She twitched, withdrawing her foot with a jerk. I sensed she was suppressing a laugh - the fabric had tickled her. Somehow, I knew that I would likely need to expect more of that: she did not seem to be one who enjoyed shoes. For the sake of my sanity, I hoped that was a misunderstanding on my part. We would see that suspicion's validity when she was presented with her footwear – I was not fond of the thought of her wandering around the grounds without sandals on.

Breaking me out of that speculation, the official confirmation began. Arei had only one chance to get it right: she could not be forceful, or shy, but had to be balanced somewhere in between those attitudes. With the Priests, it would be best if she was pleasant, and not one of an overly inquisitive nature - on the other hand, to appear to be a blank slate might irk them. The concept of a surly woman leading their government would doubtlessly aggravate them, and make them wish to be rid of her promptly. I supposed I could control her actions somewhat without my intervention being too obvious…but no, I could not. She had to do this on her own. It would be as simple as her uttering her name – but even the slightest of movements, and the tone of her voice, would be noticed and processed in those slippery minds. Presently, Arei was terribly vulnerable…. With a mental growl, I mused on how bothersome it would be to need to replace her in a few months because of some blunder on her part now.

The Attendant spoke, addressing me loudly enough for his voice to carry to the ceiling, where scribes were recording each word on the balconies overlooking us: "My High Lord, is this female the woman you have chosen as your next High Priestess?"

(_She is._) Of course she was - how irking these formalities were after all these years…!

He proceeded to turn to the curious, attentive girl at my side. "And what is your name, High Priestess?"

His speaking to her made her start somewhat, and she almost began with a meek quality. I pressed the thick of my tail to her back to remind her that she was not alone, a reassuring act that worked to encourage her as I had desired. "I am Arei."

(_Dovasary,_) I murmured in private to her; it was her familial name, though no amount of investigating on her part would find any trace of her relatives. Even in the event that she did attempt a search, it ultimately would be a useless effort on her part.

After all, to them - already perished - she too was dead.

She added her last name with a slight pause, yet not too swiftly as to indicate that anything was amiss. However, she shivered gently under my touch, so I withdrew my tail from the small of her back. Attendant Byron did not take notice of the wordless exchange, but instead turned away from us with a bow, to address with raised arms the Priests and those who listened unseen.

"God Abaddon, the Seraph of Death and Rebirth, has chosen Arei Dovasary as the newest High Priestess of our Order, to be the Holy Empress of our land, to be his advocate and…."

As he rambled onwards with the traditional words, I told my new Priestess this: (_There will be many challenges for you to overcome in the next few months as you grow accustomed to this life of yours. Mistakes, for the most part, shall initially be tolerated as you learn of what it means to be my High Priestess. Merely be wary of what these mistakes are, and try not to make them a habit. There will be those, Attendant Byron included, who you might feel you may befriend. I warn you again: be cautious before you make such a lasting decision to trust them. You may be betrayed if you allow yourself to extend your heart to someone._)

She listened to me carefully, if somewhat confused, and so I stated further: (_Now, in the event that you _do_ settle into this world in a self-satisfactory manner, you must not allow your comfort to give you reassurance. That feeling is misleading; and if you appear to be becoming egotistical, you will make more enemies than friends. As that could well be your doom…well, do not let your status go to your head, Arei. As Attendant Byron gives this speech, know this: your life here will not be an easy one. It is not all of pomp and circumstance, as some would lead you to believe. For now, I will be here to guide you: when we are alone, you may ask me whatever you wish and confide in me. In this manner, you may avoid…certain complications.)_

Later, she would fully understand what I was saying; and she would learn well the skills of how to survive in this realm of political religion. For now, I would give her what direction I could. It was solely up to her whether or not she followed my advice.

As Attendant Byron concluded his declarations, he bowed once more. At that, I rose and beckoned for Arei to come with me. For a moment, she paused, struck by uncertainty as I began to walk away without a word or motion to the others. When she began to bend, I snarled sharply, (_Do not bow to them - you are sublime, greater than they! You need only bow to me, and I will not enforce this creed. Now come - they will not expect to speak with you now; not while you are still liable to a social misdemeanor._)

Her reaction surprised me. As soon as we reentered the darkness of the halls, she scowled at me slightly. She was evidently not pleased with my growling, and seemed to be acting as though I had teased her somehow. I supposed it was better for her to be angry than upset, and as I mulled over what I had said, I realized that, essentially, I _had_ said something she could construe as offending. Slightly amused by this realization and her subsequent response, I employed my empathic abilities to sense her needs. On cue her stomach growled, without my having to probe too deeply into her aura. I glanced back at her, my eyes conveying the tiny smile that my mouth did not. (_Let us get something to eat, shall we?_)

Her frown faded, and the crease of her brow smoothed. She hurried along behind me, almost bouncing in the anticipation of breakfast – my comment was evidently dismissed in her desire to have her stomach filled with sustenance.

She must indeed be very hungry.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ah, summer...gotta love it. Hopefully, I can get some nice progress on this fic, and won't get hit by a tornado. First I'll take a week off to gut my room, but then I'll get down to it, eh? Reviews are always nice - especially the thoughtful ones.

- WiseAbsol


	4. Instincts

**Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon or Arei.**

**A/N: **I've been itching to write some more of this story – I would love to get all of what I have of it so far online this summer, but we'll see. The feedback I've received so far is encouraging, I might add. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far!

Well, on with the chapter.

**

* * *

**

- E N T R Y III. -

**_Date – February 8__th__, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:_**

_Instincts – there is no creature in existence who does not possess them. Even those holding a higher intelligence cannot deny that these 'gut feelings' are a part of their core selves. Certainly, some are more accepting and trusting of the base feelings than others, and some are forced to revert to them in order to survive dangerous situations. After all, instincts, if we pay them true heed, can warn us of approaching danger. They can heighten our ability to perceive our environment, and in general, can guide us in making unclear decisions. For even though we have long since lost our natural predators, even though our technology gives us confidence in our supposed invulnerability, we still retain our internal warning systems. Perhaps this is merely to remind us of what we once were: prey. More likely though, they remain because we know that while predatory beasts no longer pose a threat to us, there is always the risk of another of our kind finding pleasure in causing our suffering and death. How ironic it seems that so many prefer to dismiss this prey guide within us. These arrogant people choose to believe that their minds, ultimately, can always conquer their enemies, and hence they will be able to keep themselves safe. They even go so far as to fool themselves into thinking that there _is_ no danger…or worse, in the event that they finally recognize the threat, they convince themselves that they can handle it alone. All of that stated: is it really any wonder that so many fools die in war?_

* * *

**AREI:**

Within the following months, I would encounter many people who would come to alter the course of my life. Some of these beings would have a positive impact, and would, when asked, give me shelter when I so desperately needed it. There were others, in contrast, who would seek to deprive me of safety in order to manipulate my position for their own gains. Those among the different folds were varied: some would be zealots, some would turn out to be spying agents, and some would just be regular people – citizens who were merely trying to get by in a world so rapidly and massively changed by the disasters of the turning of the millennium.

Of the last group, Master Chef Orobus would be the first of the Imperial Servants that I would meet.

As I trudged along behind God Abaddon, nervousness and hunger eating away at my insides, I heard the clatter of pots and pans from distant hallways. The strengthening scent of roasting beef and fried vegetables taunted my empty stomach with a meal that seemed so far out of reach. The dark seraph comprehended my longing, and seemed amused by it in his personal, mild way. He drew me forward, and like a newborn animal to its parent, I quickly followed after him. Occasionally, my legs would spasm in protest beneath me, nearly making me stumble, yet determinedly I kept walking. As I did, the two of us ever nearing the place where food was, I gazed around with another form of hunger, my mind seeking to learn what this Temple was. There were many ceramic and metallic displays of artwork decorating the pedestals near the creamy marble walls, many of which were abstract and so confused my eyes as I peered at them. Was that a sculpture of a sleeping bird, or a still heart…? At one point along our path, we passed by an open doorway to the outside: I caught the smell of salt and brine, and felt hot, dry air billowing into the cool building - the sea and summer? I did not know. I had no sense of time, even as I wandered through the place with my High Lord.

Gazing at his back, I pondered him. He was evidently very important - I knew that now. So, as the one directly below him in ranking, mustn't that make me important as well, if the ceremony had been any indication? They had called me a Holy Empress, had they not? It was a concept that confused me, for I did not grasp fully what it meant or entailed. God Abaddon had been describing it to me, but many of his words had passed through my mind without comprehension. I could only take out the essential bits of what he said…my own thoughts, formed internally, were more understandable than what others tried to convey to me. However, being in this high position clearly put me in danger - vaguely, it made me wonder how I, someone so new to this world, had ever been appointed to the tasks before me. But then, I had the answer to that too: I had been chosen by him - by Abaddon.

Why?

Eventually, we came to the…the _kitchens_. They were vast and interconnected, with the ovens and stovetops in use billowing heat and flame. Dozens of people were in the process of preparing meals, while others ran about to give or retrieve various items, from spices to recipes. Some of these runners screeched to a halt and bowed to us before darting onwards. It was the image of organized chaos. One particularly large and muscular man, who was going bald of his red hair and was taller even than the God, stepped before us, taking off his tall chef's hat and bowing low to us. I barely came up to his belly - he…he was a giant! I shrunk behind the seraph, a little fearful. The man's fingers were larger than my wrists! Regardless of my timidity when confronted with so vast a male, God Abaddon stepped aside, pushing me forward with his tail. I glanced back at him, frankly panicked. What…what did he want me to do? He…he was not handing me over to this man, was he?

(_Priestess, tell Master Chef Orobus that I would like the some of the stew he has prepared sent up to the Emerald Room. Do not be frightened of him - he is a kind human, despite how frightening his bear-like demeanor may appear to you._)

What in the world was a 'bear'? An image popped into my mind of a stuffed toy, and I turned back to the chef, incredulous. I saw nothing adorable and cuddly about him! Quaking slightly, and attempting to keep my voice steady, I told this Orobus what God Abaddon had said.

The ginger-haired cook smiled widely and with genuine pleasure, laughing delightedly as he gazed at me, and then at my superior. "Well, I'll be sure to do that promptly. I must say, my lord, you have chosen quite a young one this time. Cute and sweet too – she reminds me of my own little girl in the capital. I think I'll add something more to your breakfast than just stew, if you do not mind?"

Abaddon seemed slightly irked by something, but gave the man an accepting nod, and again beckoned me away. I will admit – from what Orobus had said, I was caught between liking him despite his grand presence, and being a bit embarrassed by his words. Was I truly so young, so much like a child? Perhaps so...but like any child, I did not enjoy being called one! Yet by the time I tackled the stairs again, I had decided: I liked the Master Chef. Now that I was no longer cowering in his presence, he seemed to be as Abaddon had said – kind. Fatherly, perhaps, but in a different way than what I experienced with my High Lord. I wondered if I would spend much time with the cook after this day. Perhaps – but one could not say with certainly whether or not that would be the case.

The third level was where we departed from the stairwell, not going to the highest floor where I had awoke in. God Abaddon led me to a room cradled in one of the far corners, and as we entered I breathed in heavy, moist air, which was filled with the crisp and clean odors of foliage. The Emerald Room was an indoor garden, where numerous potted plants surrounded us as we stepped into its confines. All were lush and recently watered, and above us shown the dimmed sphere of the sun through a black glass ceiling. This was a form of _greenhouse_ - a decorative one. Below our feet were rugs regarding scenes from the seasons of summer and spring, and also ones of jeweled birds – hummingbirds - fluttering about exotic and delicate flowers to drink their nectar. God Abaddon stepped over to a table made of dark metal, and settled swiftly into one of the four thinly cushioned seats. I followed his example, noting vaguely how the metal strips of the back of my chair were shaped and woven together to mimic metallic ivy. This place evidently one that advocated the beauty of the natural world - the plant life testified this fact.

I glanced over to my God, wanting to ask him if there were other rooms like this one, but…he appeared to have fallen asleep.

…Had he?

**

* * *

**

MEWTWO:

I longed to doze. The previous night had given me an undeniable headache, and my hunger only increased its ache. Though the chair was not comfortable in many ways for a creature such as me – for my tail especially - I _was_ a _feline_. I could sleep on hard, bumpy stones if need be and not have a fitful time about it…I had done so before at times. Truthfully, a bed was a rather luxurious commodity for this body of mine, and like many cats that preferred to make nests for themselves, I was no exception. I enjoyed my soft silks and cotton blankets, even knowing that I did not need them to survive or sleep. Yet, again, like other pokemon, I preferred to have comfort and warmth when I could…but if it were taken from me abruptly, I would not rant and complain about such. It was easy enough to accept, and I was no human who would lament the loss of something material and what could not be helped.

So as I sat there, leaning back into the cold metal, I attempted to meditate, so as to more swiftly slip into a recuperative doze that would help me regain my energies, and would aid in eliminating the time it took for our meal arrived. Vaguely, I became aware of my Priestess's budding curiosity, feeling the questions bubbling up in her presently simple brain. I let her wonder at my actions; I was drifting into calm, restorative peace…. She could stand to provoke her mind with ponderings…if she did not think, well…she was in for a rough time here - she would not last the month.

Faintly, I heard her rise from her seat. She was leaning over to me…her thoughts were evident. She was wondering if the faint rumble that had formed in my throat was snoring. In truth, I was growling softly at her not to get any closer, but had no desire to break away from my calm by speaking. Yet she paid the warning no heed, instead she only leaned further over. I could feel her breath on my face…a strand of her hair tickling gently at my collar. As I heard footsteps approaching, detected the fragrance of the stew that had arrived rather more swiftly than I had anticipated, I opened my eyes, staring up into her orchid ones. She seized slightly in surprise: she had thought I had drifted off fully. A bit sternly, annoyed by how close she had been getting to me without my consent, I ordered her to sit back down, and called for the servants to enter with our meal.

Orobus had done well: the stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, and other assorted spices and vegetables was thick and savory; and my omnivore teeth chewed the softened bits with ease. The servers had also left freshly baked bread, drizzled with melted butter and honey, as well as a small bowl of sugar-coated nuts that the Priestess was almost certain to enjoy. The drinks were made of crushed ice and pineapple juice. As she tasted them, her delight and wonder evident on her face, I explained the drink to her as a small matter of interest.

(_The fruit used to make this juice was shipped to our port in vast quantities earlier today. The God of the Western Seas, Lugia, has many islands under his rule which produce them, and so gave some as an initiation gift for you. He believed you would enjoy the rare treat…and as we have close relations in trade with his provinces, the offering is also a show of goodwill._)

Her face shown with perplexed bemusement, yet before she could ask her inquiries, a man called out, interrupting our discussion.

It was a High Messenger, whose name I knew to be Craven Shardea - I highly doubted I would be pleased with his words. He usually went at great lengths to be the one to deliver bad news: for some sick reason which escaped my understanding, it gave him a sort of rise. The man himself was approaching "old age," being in his early thirties, and his completion was a deep, unlined tan. His ebony hair was held back in the fashionable, long, thick ponytail. He bowed low to us, his dark eyes darting to Arei; with some displeasure, I watched as his lips curled in a tiny, reptilian smile. The way he was staring at her did not suit my tastes in the least, and my new Priestess's reaction was even more evident than my own. Her aura spiked with acrid fear, and her body seemed to twitch, as if she were repressing a disturbed tremble; she apparently knew what form of gaze the man was giving her, but was clueless as to the name it held. Yet I knew…I knew all too well what Messenger Craven was contemplating in his mind, and did not care for it _at all_.

He spoke then, his voice drawling vaguely, "Good morning, my lord and lady. I have already heard much about you, High Priestess."

So the rumors were so swift to arise, were they? Before he could hint at matters best left dormant, I glanced to Arei. (_Tell him, Priestess, that you have been given _Rebirth_. Any sins you may have committed in your past life are lifted and forgiven: you are cleansed, and he is to remember this._)

My High Priestess conveyed my words with some difficulty over the concepts themselves, not the words. She was confused, but some of her fear had been dissipated by the order I had given her. Soon enough, she would begin to use her status as my advocate in her own defense, and even later the task would become habit. I had no issues with either of these things: if it comforted her, so be it. Yet to answer her silent inquiries, I privately explained to her what I was referring to. (_In a past life, you lived outside this Temple. However, when my previous Priestess was poisoned - a woman named Kara - it was you I chose to take from that world to replace her. Essentially, hers and your life ended on the same night…but you, unlike her, awoke to a new dawn, purified of what that other life had done to sully your soul. Now, as Messenger Craven is not a Priest, he does not always understand this fact._)

There were others like him…Arei would learn that, in time, and it would be months yet until she understood the concept I conveyed to her currently. When she did, her reaction was certain to be unpredictable, perhaps even violent, if she chose to make it clear of her opinion at all. I could not predict how this girl would grow in the following months…for surely she would not remain a child-in-mind as she began to learn more of this world? Certain traits of her personality, her habits, and shards of knowledge, _would_ return to her…and then I had to wonder, would the creature before her "death" reawaken? If that occurred, what situation would that put me in? In my previous choices of who would be my Priestess, I had followed certain criteria…but not for this one. No; my desires had been quite different, and from what Craven's tone was suggesting, he was mistaking my intentions behind why this had been. I caught stray strands of his unguarded musings: '_entertaining female'…'his amusement'…'she'll be fun for him._' I muttered a low curse, unintelligible to the girl sitting near me, and told her to have him deliver his message.

She began to convey my words, only to be cut off. "He wishes me to do my task, yes? Am I right…High Priestess _Arei_?"

Arei was reasonably startled; instinctively, she seemed to comprehend that he was not supposed to interrupt her. My eyes narrowed at him: I was becoming increasingly agitated with the lowly man in those moments. While I did not care for my Priestesses, per say, I did not like having them being insulted, even subtly. _I_ had chosen her – _I - _and she was to be treated with a certain respect for that! My pupils became slits at the impolite gesture on his part, and my fingers drummed on the table's surface impatiently. I had had enough of this man…the way his voice had played with her name - like a hiss - had only served to aggravate me as much as his message did. For, as I had predicted, I did not enjoy what he conveyed.

As if the man had not already been insulting enough in his very nature, he now sought to remind me of something I detested:

Mew.

"The Goddess of Life and Light would like to remind you of the meeting prior to the Day of Life Celebration, three months from now. She would also like to convey that if you refuse her request to speak with her, as you have done numerous times in the past, she will come in force at the time she desires to meet with you. That is all."

If _that_ was _all_, I detested his annoying preliminaries…! After all, he was not one who possessed a lust for _innocent_ small talk, nor did he set people at _ease_. Instead, he shifted them off-balance with his behavior. Certainly while I knew well the inherit value of this, he did it merely for pleasure and to get under his superiors' skin...especially if that flesh was of a Priestess. I held back a snarl - the metaphor hardly pleased me. Though I could see _why_ he was covetousness, in a detached manner: for what intimate embrace was more unobtainable and forbidden than hers?

Still, I forced myself to push my mind away from thinking on the insignificant worm who called himself a man, instead choosing to dwell upon Mew's threat. I growled slightly, and then murmured, (_Very well…I suppose I cannot evade her forever, as tempting as the prospect might be. You may tell Messenger Craven that, and do have him add in his reply that it is unnecessary for her soldiers to accompany her. Then, if you would, tell him to leave us: his company had overextended itself._)

Arei Dovasary listened and obeyed. She was glad to dismiss the scavenger, for it appeared to me that he made her skin 'crawl.' I could not blame her, though I was unable to relate to her precise form of distress, and so possessed no facial expression that would express my sympathy for her plight. Still, she would need to grow inured to it: there were many people of his wretched kind, and she would have to deal with them all in turn if they had their way. Afterwards however, seeing my mood, she did not speak with me or ask questions. I was grateful for this, for I had no desire to sooth her curiosity now. Perhaps later I would again offer her my full attention….

However, when at last that later came, I would realize that we now had something in common: we _both_ had those we wished to _avoid_.

If only such evasions were possible to uphold for all our lives…!

* * *

**A/N: **Mewtwo is such a spoiled prick…heh, this is fun. Anyhow, please review if you would be so kind. Though the entries are small, I would appreciate your thoughts on them very much. Too often I have people lament how long my chapters are, and for this one I'm doing things differently. Since I haven't taken up hours of your time already, taking a few minutes to leave some comments would be a gift to me. Thanks for reading, at any rate.

- WiseAbsol


	5. Nightmares

**Disclaimer: Oh come on – you know I don't own pokemon. You know I don't own Arei! Why must I say this every bloody time? Oh yeah…'cause the higher ups would spank me if I didn't. Really, I'd claim harassment…and then get trampled on, probably.**

**A.N.: **Hey! It's not February anymore! We are making progress! Wheeee! (Giddy – come on, I'm young, I can still scream like that without being shipped off as a nutter…even though I'm probably somewhat insane. But where's the fun in sanity, I ask you?) On with the show!

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**- E N T R Y IV. -**

**_Date – March 15__th__-17__th__, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:_**

_Nightmares: they are the product of our subconscious's attempts to express our deepest worries. Oftentimes, these terrifying sequences of images each pass but once, and are never imagined again. Unless similar stimuli is employed - such as rereading a specific horror story, or watching another movie about a serial killer or monster - we do not find ourselves thrashing in our sheets again from imaginings our brains have spun before. However, there are other occurrences where the same nightmare haunts the dreamer endlessly - as in when the sleeping mind is desperate in its desire to convey something essential to the soul. This might be a repressed memory that needs to be revealed…a truth we do not wish to face, whether it is from within or without…or the necessity of overcoming a traumatic experience, even if by falsely reliving it. One may vaguely wonder why these internal messages cannot be conveyed in a more pleasant manner. Looking at the matter quite simply, what is one more likely to recall after waking: a happy, fleeting dream…or a horrific, stark nightmare that leaves them in a cold sweat, weeping and trembling in terror and anguish?_

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AREI:

_Seven days after my presentation to the Council of Priests, I stood in a dimly lit room, watching a tall crimson curtain flutter between me and the outside world. Closing my eyes, I could hear the audience below gathered on the Temple grounds: their shouts, their laughter, their indecipherable murmurs, and the wailing of a few fussing children. The atmosphere was stifling with the muggy, hot air and with the myriad emotions arising from beneath the balcony only a few steps in front of me. Though I was no psychic, I could sense the citizens' anticipation, apprehension, and anxiety. The twelve Priests took preplanned turns calling out to the common people in the traditional phrases that announced my public introduction to the ones who dwelled in the capital…and to be quite honest, I was…_frightened_._

_Though the Temple was hardly vacant, I had never been in the presence of so many people before. True, I did not have to speak - yet all the same, I was still nervous, and had no desire to go out and face them. As though sensing my fear, my Attendant – Byron - stepped to my side, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. This surprised me: he was not supposed to touch me…but it was merely a friendly gesture, and it insinuated nothing. He was here for reassurance, unlike the rest of the servants and my Handmaidens, who had departed some time earlier. I would admit openly how grateful I was for his gesture…I needed someone's company to get up the nerve to do what was required of me. _

_He smiled as I gave him a wary look. "Don't worry, Priestess. Even if you fall on your face, they can't laugh at you: their heads would roll off the plateau!"_

_From his vague attempt at rhyming, I think he meant his words to be funny - but I was rather horrified, and it showed in my expression. Honestly, I was not used to jokes; considering whose company I kept a majority of the time, my Attendant should comprehend this well enough. God Abaddon, we both knew, was not a particularly comical fellow, though he did at times possess a wry sense of humor which I could not easily comprehend…actually, now that I thought on it, no one could quite figure it out completely…._

_Byron grew flustered at the look I was giving him. "Umm…you do realize that I'm totally kidding? They wouldn't be executed; however, they might have their rations taken away for a couple days. That's all the punishment they'd get."_

_Well, that was not reassuring! I told him such; as I knew the discomfort of the sensation, I would not wish it on another so easily. This time, his grin was genuine, without the essence of teasing in it. "That's sweet of you - sometimes High Priestesses just don't give a damn about the people, no matter how God Abaddon attempts to cleanse their souls. Let me tell you, the women with past lives as nobles can be such bitches...!"_

_Byron was using a number of words I did not understand – they were curses, most likely. According to Abaddon, cussing was used as an emphasis to convey an emotion, usually vexation, and to do this meant using a vulgar word or taking a hallowed person's name or body part in vain without consideration. In my mind, I tried it: Abaddon's eyes? Somehow, that did not seem right - I was clearly still missing some key point in this subject. However, I comprehended much of what Byron had said, regardless of his swearing. Curiosity, apparently so abundant in me from what I had been told, made me ask my next question:_

"_Attendant Byron…who was I before God Abaddon gave me _Rebirth_?"_

Rebirth_…I still did not understand what the term meant. I suppose that was to be expected: I had only been awake a week. Yet, on some deep level, it bothered me - what was it? Who was I?_

_My companion shook his head. "I'm sorry, Priestess…you know I can't tell you, even if I understood the matter fully myself. Does it really matter, though? Your old self is dead…she is nothing, as she should be."_

_I knew this…but that did not stop me from wondering, did it? Maybe my friend was right – and it was not as if the dark seraph hadn't attempted to explain it to me before. He had done so with purposeful ambiguity however. He had told me that I 'had been a caterpillar, a worm' or some such repulsive insect. But due to his aid, I had gone through a 'metamorphosis', and had become a 'lunar moth, brilliant in the shadows.' I supposed the metaphor was apt: after all, whoever this body had belonged to before me, she had surely suffered and struggled to survive, like a helpless bug. So perhaps it was best that I did not remember, for in my ignorance I could not be embittered in soul by the knowledge of pain._

_Yet could I have a future if I did not know my past? Could I…?_

_All too swiftly, the final declarations were shouted by the Priests, and Attendant Byron pushed my forward gently, his eyes gleaming. "All right, they're calling for you. Go get 'em, Priestess Arei!"_

_Even with my reluctance, I did as he suggested – what other choice did I have now? With a shaking hand, I parted the dark-red curtain and walked into the dazzling sunlight beyond it. I was careful not to throw up an arm to shield my eyes from the sun, for according to my God I was not supposed to show any signs of discomfort or weakness. Apparently, he considered seven days to be enough to regain my bearings and begin my teaching. I accepted this, as I accepted all that came my way…for who was I to know what was wrong or right? Who was I to know if people were coming at me easily or hard? I did not know, so I took God Abaddon's advice, as I likely always would. _

_He had told me to walk straight, with good posture. He had told me to keep my head up and take pride in the person I was now. As I stepped forward to the rail of the balcony, the silhouetted figures of the Priests yielded to me to allow my approach. As I came into sight, the crowd gathered below - of overwhelming numbers I could scarcely contemplate - hushed…and then, in an eruption of noise, they began to cheer and shout. Their time of mourning for the old High Priestess was over…and now they were to give welcome to the new one: me._

_And yet…some of what I heard was not encouraging, nor benevolent. Some of them were…they were…._

_Jeering…at me._

_As I fought not to shrink back, not to look distressed at the malevolent words rising my way, a calm voice came from behind me. (_Do not be offended, Arei. It always happens, for they easily forget: you have been renewed.)

_I turned to face him, my concealing, white kimono, which was decorated with amethyst doves, fluttering about me, "Do they know me?" I asked._

_He stared off into the horizon, his tail lashing gently, showing how unfettered he was. (_Not truly…but rumors never cease to arise. That you are only seventeen - a child compared to many of the others – was certain to raise some amount of doubt. However, I assure you, you are worthy of this post…and they would do well to remember that._)_

_To express this point, he suddenly hissed, and without warning, a lightning bolt the hue of pale lilac shot down from the clear sky, striking the marble crucifix erected in the courtyard below. The earth-shattering thunder of it seemed to split the firmament in two, and nearly knocked me to my feet. Many of the peasants below us shrieked and leapt away from the structure, appearing to be no wiser than startled Stantler. I could only stare in shock, my sight temporarily blinded. Then, almost as swiftly as the bolt had struck, silence fell…the very absence of sound was one which makes you hear your own quickened pulse. In a scornful tone, the dark God told me that it was a _friendly_ reminder that my selection had been of his choice…and it was not within _their rights_ to question_ him!

_Before I could comment, a shadowy figure darted at me from the side, shoving me forcefully and deliberately towards the edge of the balcony. The rail was lower than my waist level, and in my momentum, I tumbled over it without losing any speed. Someone had pushed me over the edge…and now I was falling, falling, faster and faster to the ground below, which rushed up at me before I could hear the screams of the watchers. Impact raced towards me: ten feet, five feet, two-!_

-I jerked awake, gasping for breath, my entire body shuddering in fear and shock. My thin sheets and my nightdress coiled about me in tight folds, and I fought to disentangle myself from their firm grasp. When I finally managed to free myself from the fabric pythons, all I could do was lay there in my bed, thinking over what I had seen: it was a lie. How unsettling that was: my _own brain_ was lying to me – those events had never happened!

Yet enough of it was accurate to my memory to be disturbing. True, the ending was different: I had walked away from the presentation with my displeased lord…no one had tried to end my life. It was only a dream…it was just a dream, nothing more.

All the same, I felt sick to my core…I hated dreaming. Oh, how I _hated_ it!

Vaguely, I noticed that there was yet another spring storm outside, battering at the shutters of my windows. The noise must be what had reminded me of that incident: the night after my public presentation - a month ago now - Abaddon's anger had resulted in the formation of a dangerous sandstorm. No one had died…but some who had been caught within it had had their skin flayed pink when it had rolled in from the desert ruins. The thought of what my High Lord's rage could do made me tremble somewhat…even if it _was_ doubtful that I would ever be on the receiving end of such wrath….

From his quarters across from mine, my seraph could sense some of my thoughts, (…_Another nightmare, Priestess?_) He murmured, as if he lay next to me and could feel my tense form quivering.

I thought back my reply towards him, knowing well that he would hear me, even though I possessed no telepathic powers myself. '_Yes…it was not the same one, but…it was a nightmare nonetheless.'_

I referred to the horrible dream that _usually_ possessed me during the twilight: of searing fire and blanketing smoke, and of blood and blurred, dark faces…. Even thinking about the images made me tremble and my heartbeat quicken with fear.

(_With time, they shall pass…._)

I…I hoped he was right…for I was swiftly learning how much I despised the darkness of dreaming….

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Two days after the night terror, I awoke to the appetizing smell of fried cakes. The sugar atop the diced fruits, which covered the sweet circles of bread, left an appealing syrupy layer on top of the 'pancakes.' The aromas of milk and honey only added to the enticing fragrances, and made my stomach growl at me to awaken from the depths of sleep. Very well then…I would obey its order…just as soon as my heavy eyelids would rise with greater ease…!

When I did fully manage to pry myself from my weariness, I found that the servants had already departed, and God Abaddon stood over at my window, in much of the same, thoughtful way as he had the day of my awakening. As I stripped off my nightgown, naked underneath, he averted his gaze - I wondered at why he did this. _I _did not mind in the least, so why should he care? Sighing, I reminded myself that I yet did not quite understand why others were so adamant on clothing…their God did not wear them, so why did I have to?

When I had brought up this point one afternoon, even Abaddon had fought to make me understand that I could not wander around unclothed, no matter how uncomfortable and binding my robes were. In retrospect, no one had actually given me a straight reason…they'd muttered something about it being unduly suggestive, but…well, what were they implying? The whole topic confused me, and while I would later come to understand why very clearly, for now it remained a bewildering subject for me.

Nevertheless I got dressed, slipping on my simplest robes, and stared hungrily at the meal that had been set at my table. The books and candles had been moved aside - reading was something I deeply enjoyed, though it had been difficult at first, to interpret written scrawl into spoken words…but after I had gotten the hang of it, it now became a thing I savored almost as much as God Abaddon was reputed to. Even if it did not make sense to me wholly, I loved it…and glancing at my seraph, I wondered whether or not I could enjoy my breakfast too. He glanced to me, and stated that the food was safe to eat, having already been tested. Famished, I tucked into it, taking a long gulp of milk - the sweat, creamy flavor rolled over my tongue. I loved the taste of it!

…_You never tasted a drop beyond infancy, child…._

I almost choked at the random thought. Where had-?

(_Do not spew your drink over the books - the scribes would be highly displeased with you if you do._)

I shook myself from my thoughts, "Y-yes, God Abaddon. Please tell me, do we have any tasks today?"

He ignored my blunder to answer the perfectly serious question. (_No, we do not. In the coming months, we shall have much to do once the militia returns, however…for today, we are not busy._)

I gazed out my window, noticing that the sky held the pale hues of dawn. My brow furrowed. "If that's so, why was I awoken so early, my Lord?"

His eyes flashed with an incredulous sheen. (_Are you yet tired, Arei?)_

I only shook my head minutely in response…he would know better than I how long he had forced me to stay up, studying scrolls. "Not incredibly," I said, and ventured, "Still, why?"

He paused before answering. As he rarely did this, I knew well enough to listen carefully to his next words. _(…It strikes me that you have walked upon very little of the grounds. Considering that many ceremonies are done outside, such as summoning, I find this to be a serious flaw in your education after a month has passed. As well…I believe you will enjoy an excursion from this…'stuffy'…place._)

I could not keep my smile from my lips, as much as I tried. I…would be willing to go anywhere with him….

Within the hour, I found myself in the northern gardens, the dewy grass cold and wet beneath my bare feet, the ends of my robes growing saturated and heavy. The rising sun made the droplets into the tears of a phoenix, fiery and gleaming in the fresh sunshine's brilliant hues. I looked back towards the way God Abaddon had led me, finding the trail where I had stepped…and I confess: I was pleased by seeing this, to know where I walked. Sighing, I felt my mouth curl into a grin, and laughing quietly I spun about in the small meadow, dancing in the warm glow of the dawn….

And as before, when he had glimpsed me unclothed, I did not mind that Abaddon watched me.

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MEWTWO:

She…was such a child.

Arei took so much delight in the smallest of things, and barely understood the concepts of sin and virtue, barely understood lies and deception. She was almost unbearably innocent in so many ways, and I would admit to only myself that I had never expected her to have obtained this form of purity, not to this extent…and especially not considering who she had once been. Certainly, she would soon come to grow into her body's maturity, however…as she danced there, she seemed so, so pitifully young…! She was pleasant to watch, yes. Her orchid eyes had taken an iridescent hue in the morning light, as they took in the blooming flowers, the blossoms and tulips, the lilies and irises, and so many other varieties of flora. Above her, the boughs of the trees swayed, their rustling leaves adding their own tune in beat with her steps…the gaps between the green cast down shimmering rays of golden light onto her form. Where they struck the dewy ground near her feet sparkled like blood opals….

"…_Does she please you?"_

_For a moment, I refused to respond. I understood quite well what Attendant Byron was truly asking me, and did not desire to give him any answer to such a ludicrous subject. What I did or did not feel for the girl was none of his, or anyone else's, concern. (_As much as any High Priestess can…her personality, at the very least, is something I do find rather amusing._) I replied._

"…_Fine, God Abaddon, be difficult." His next question was without any of his previous attempt at tact: "Does she remind you of High Priestess Christina any?"_

_I had known the inquiry had been coming – it never failed to. Yet this time, I stiffened when faced with it, and my eyes narrowed. _(…No; Christina…she was far more mature than Arei is currently.) _Only then did I gaze upon him. _(Are you all so hopeful that your plans shall be successful this time? I thought you, at least, cared for my Priestess more than to make her suffer such humiliation._)_

_The young man gave a wry smile at that. "Not really – I mean about the plans, not the High Priestess. It's just that the Council of Priests is once again trying to pressure me to bend her towards the idea."_

(…Have you spoken to her about it?)

_He laughed at the stoic way I was regarding him. "No! She probably wouldn't understand it anyway, not right now."_

_(_It is not likely,_) I agreed, and proceeded to promptly push the thought from my mind. What need was there to worry about it now?_

_Yet out of sheer curiosity, I gazed at him again, wondering at the smile he possessed. Humans were supposed to mourn at length for a person close to them that had been lost. Though, I understood why he would not allow me to see his grief: he had a task to perform, and personal matters were not of any interest to me. He knew I would show no sympathy for his loss. Still, I questioned him then, even knowing my words were terribly cruel. (_Do you miss your cousin, Byron?_)_

…_Did he miss his only cousin, his dear Kara? _

_Why did I bother to ask something so obvious and trivial? Did I expect him to show me signs of weakness in a more relaxed conversation? Did I honestly expect him to share to me his resentment and grief, to _me_, who had invariably been the cause of her death? Humans could be quite confusing about mourning - many considered it a private affair, and in their stubbornness would not allow one tear to be shed in the presence of others. This was not healthy, of course: humans are social creatures, not loners as great cats are. To bottle up their emotions is a dangerous, stressful thing – it gives them the potential to erupt violently at any time. Had Attendant Byron not proven so useful to me, I would not have bothered to ask him this wretched thing. Yet he remained firmly indifferent to my actions, and that concerned me somewhat – why did he not lash out in some way? He knew his value well, and knew I would not punish him for a justified blow or a shouting rant. These things I could endure with ease…yet his accursed indifference and resentment could lead to some nasty things, such as the swaying of loyalty…and I could not afford that from someone of his position._

_I noted how his jaw clenched…he did not enjoy my reminding him of Kara, and had his own thorny inquiry in response. "Do you miss your _sister_?"_

_I should have expected it. Yet, deeply displeased and angered, I ordered him out of my presence…and then thought of her: my Ai…._

_Her name flooded my mind, bringing with it all the memories that still haunted me, even a century after they had passed, even when I had become numb to everything else. That single syllable of Japanese was the only word in the myriad human languages that could tear at my buried heart. In the more recent decades, I had but one true moment of weakness: I had wished for someone, anyone else, to know of the sweet girl and of her kindness to me…so I had told the surviving humans about her. Then, to my _shame_, she became in their minds a human seraph: the only one, the Neo-Goddess of Love. February was for her…for her, the only creature that had ever made me happy, for her, the only one who had ever made me shed tears…!_

_Ai…._

"Thank you!" Arei called, her soft voice breaking me from my thoughts…and in that moment, I was forced to acknowledge one of the secret reasons I had chosen this young woman to be by my side:

Her smile…it was so shockingly alike to Ai's.

It was undeniably similar, the small twist of the lips, the way she held herself in her rapturous joy. Her very attitude was so much a reflection of that of my childhood companion that it made me start somewhat from deep inside myself. Yet in that ambivalent shock came a feeling very close to remorse: for Arei too would meet an early end, just like Ai. Priestesses, after all, did not last long: the politics and passions of the human world conspired against them from the start. With that knowledge firmly in mind, I turned away from her, piling more ice and stone on my metaphorical heart…I _refused_ to be affected by her death when it came! I would _not_ grow attached to her as I had with Ai – I would not suffer that agony again…!

She was only a human woman, after all. Nothing, _nothing_ more…!

(_You are welcome,_) I said to her, my voice gruff, and began to walk away, hearing her follow me as was becoming repetitious these days.

Keeping my distance from her was for the best, I knew…and it would be simple enough to do….

In those bittersweet moments, the sun rose above the trees, and cast her shadow into mine…as I watched, they became one, and more than anything else had in so many long years, the sight unsettled me….

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**A.N.: **…Well, they _seem_ to be getting a little closer. This chapter may seem pointless, but it does bring up subject matter that is important later on – especially concerning the matter of Ai, who, in her own way, plays a role in the story, albeit an unclear one until the very end. Please, review if you'd be so kind. Thanks!

- WiseAbsol


	6. Rain

**Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon or Arei. Sheesh!**

**Author's Note:** This is a rather cute chapter, in a way. We begin to see that Arei has a little bit of backbone when concerning getting her way...not much, because she's both somewhat scared and admiring of Mewtwo, but it's a start. Enjoy!

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- E N T R Y V. -

_**Date – April 13**__**th**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

_The phenomenon of rainfall is viewed differently by everyone, depending on the present situation and one's past experience within it. For generalization's sake, people's opinions of it can be divided into two opposing groups: those who enjoy it, and those who despise it. Mostly, both views have something to do with the feeling of raindrops against the skin. Some dislike the cold wet, and become irritated once the drops strike their faces and clothes. Others, however, enjoy the feeling of the tingling impact, and at more philosophical times savor the perceived connection between the heavens and earth. For what else can the rain truly be considered beyond such a liaison? Is it a gift from the skies to the lands below, and whether it's taken in excess or not - like an alcoholic drink - depends solely on the will of nature? Or is it the tears of angels; and hence why it's present in so many sad scenes in books and movies? Yet if the last notion is the case…well, is there a greater reason behind why angels cry?_

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AREI:

In the west of our land is a vast expanse of blue-green sea, where beaches of sand and rocks stretch along to mark our border. Many of the cities within God Abaddon's empire perch near this division, clustering where foreign goods and military protection can swiftly come to their aid. The capital of the land is no exception to this behavior: by far the largest center of life in a country mostly regarded as a desert, it sprawls along the coast, far wider than it is thick. Within a couple of hours one could reach the outskirts by going straight through its width…yet traveling from the north to south sides in a walk may take over two days. The Temple, of course, is centralized – the city below the plateau it sits upon expanded from around it. Towards the side of the setting sun, the rocky pedestal ends in an abrupt fall as a sea-cliff…however, at one part there is a stone rise that juts out over the water. This slab of grey granite hangs over the edge, naked and flat, its vast face sullied from years of marks of ash, chalk, and purifying salt. With my seraph I stood upon this naturally carved stage, our audience at the base of the hill whose crown he and I walked upon. The wind blew at us fiercely here, and swept my hair back from my face and neck. It was the only reason I could endure being outside on such a scorching day, out here under the cruel sun.

My Lord did not seem to mind the heat at all; but then again, very little ever seemed to bother him.

Taking my eyes from him, I crouched down once more, now positioned at the eastern side of the summoning grounds, and continued to draw the last of the chalk designs that were necessary for this ritual. The circle was complete, and the lines of a long dead language flowed from my hands onto the firm stone, the precise details I marked having been memorized within the last couple of weeks. I would not need Abaddon's help for this pattern: I knew it by heart now. As I scrawled the final signs, I set small urns - filled with incense and burning grasses - at each point: to the north, the south, the east, and finally the west.

I knew what I had to do next; the scrolls had told me that much. My God had warned me at times that I would wreck my eyes in persisting to abuse them in order to learn, as I read frequently during the dark hours of night. I paid him no heed in this: if I went blind he could heal me, I was certain of it. Besides, didn't he desire for me to satiate my curiosity, as my inquisitive nature was becoming increasingly annoying to him? Well, didn't he…?

Perhaps Byron _was_ right: I _was _a glutton for knowledge. Although, I would be the first to admit that there was much I was being pressed to learn which I held no interest in - the lost technologies, for example. Some topics were so boring that, to be quite frank, I only craved throwing their papers into a fire. However, the scrolls were valuable and likely irreplaceable. So despite my weariness of them, I could sadly not make them into kindling. A downright shame, that...after all, there were terms in the old sciences that even our top scholars could no longer understand: 'nuclear cold fusion', 'deoxyribonucleic acid replication', 'pocket dimension space'…they were a few of the more confusing examples of words that had one point meant something to our kind, but whose comprehension presently had been lost in the Winds-of-Water Epoch.

That decade, incidentally, was where my true interest lay: for it contained the legends of this world. Yes; those valid myths I could read for hours and never tire of….

Back in reality, I felt terribly grimy from the high temperatures and the wandering dusts. Our country was held in a dry season during much of the year, save in the short spring and winter months. However, we had yet to receive any precipitation, and this deeply worried those who ran our agriculture. Due to the timing, the farmers' pleas for a change in the weather had become my first official ceremony: God Abaddon and I were to summon down the reluctant rain. I knew each of the steps in the process; God Abaddon had drilled me on them for hours until I knew them perfectly, and had imprinted essential parts into my mind with his telepathy (just in case my memory suffered a lapse). Fortunately for me, this particular ritual was not one which required a purification bath. Certainly while bathing later did sound enjoyable, I did not want my form to be scrubbed down by my Handmaidens…not again. After all, I was capable enough to do it myself….

_Throughout the labyrinth halls of the Temple, God Abaddon led me about to introduce me to the Imperial Staff. Fortunately for me, I was not expected to remember all of their names or faces currently; however, it was still essential that I meet them for the sake of politeness. These formal, social hours grew to take up much of the long day, and so by the time I met my lead Handmaiden I felt listless. I longed to return to my quarters and drift off in my sheets…the notion of a bed seemed fiercely seductive now, but God Abaddon would not let me retire until I had met the woman he called 'Marie.' She was - I noted when we faced one another - a kind and pretty woman. She had chocolate brown skin and dark auburn hair, which she had tied back like many others I had seen. Her white smile was welcoming, and she bowed to us deeply with no hesitance. Her onyx eyes were honest and sincere, and while the seraph had said I should be cautious, I immediately found myself taken to her. She seemed like a nice woman…perhaps I might find a friend in her. Already such bonds were connections I wanted for myself, for I had seen how others wandered in groups, and chatted so easily with one another. Certainly Abaddon and I spoke together, but it was always somewhat awkward. As much as he did not enjoy blathering, he enjoyed lively debates. Yet as I was not knowledgeable enough to be a suitable partner in an intellectual argument, conversations between us could fall into uncomfortable silences. _

_As I shook myself from such thoughts, I nodded to the woman: the action seemed to be the appropriate acknowledgement. Abaddon used the gesture himself, and no one had gazed at me oddly for mimicking him. I took their acceptance to mean it was the correct move, and not indicative of a social stumble. So far, I had not been told this was wrong. At any rate, my seraph proceeded to explain that Marie would come to be something of a guide to the feminine aspects of this strange realm. As clueless as I was, I would admit that I needed her help badly._

"_I am pleased to meet you, Lady Arei," she murmured, her voice low and rich._

_I would have returned a greeting…but in the moment, a messenger had rounded the corner and was approaching us fleetly. _

_It was the Shardea man. _

_My initial opinion of him had never changed: my mind perceived him as a predator, a human concealing fangs and talons beneath his deceptive appearance. How he gazed upon me seemed startlingly familiar, however, I could not grasp what the slight smirk and the shinning of his eyes meant. When held in that look, I felt as though his fingers – likely icy and hard – were trailing up my spine. As frightening as my God could be, he had nowhere near the same sinister feel as this wretched man. Oh why, _why_ did it always have to be _him_ who delivered messages to Abaddon? Why must I endure it every time…?_

_Later I would comprehend the various levels of hierarchy, and so gain an explanation for his constant reappearance. Craven Shardea was not yet a leading figure among his craft; he had surpassed the Novice, Apprentice, and Journeyman levels while in his teens and twenties, and had stopped there, seeming to have found himself a comfortable niche where he was. As proof of his contentment, he had turned down the traditional promotion to the Master rank numerous times. Most likely, he refused to step beyond his current position due to the restrictions being a Master would place on his movements. Though he would have more commanding power over his subordinates, he would not be allowed to carry information himself, and so would lose his current access to bits of useful gossip. As a result, he remained where he was; more than happy to keep reporting to us directly instead of organizing matters. Hence, more often than I would like, I had to deal with him and his sly smirks._

_Our God and he quickly discussed a meeting occurring between two of the neighboring countries. The follower party of one would be traveling through our land to speak with the other in a matter of days. I was asked to convey the fact that this crossing would be allowed, though a time limit would be set: they were not to linger in our empire. All the while, I fought to keep my nervousness and aggravation from my features…but Abaddon could sense things about what I was feeling, whether I wanted him to or not. Yet he did not comment, nor did he seem very concerned. When the conversation was complete, High Messenger Craven smiled with poisoned sweetness. "Thank you, my Lord…my Lady."_

_Instinctively in that moment I did something I would come to regret: I reached over to my seraph's paw, touching my fingers to his for reassurance, and to try to convey to the snake-like man that my God was here, and that he would keep me safe. In response, Marie and Craven stared openly: their reactions fascinated me. My primary Handmaiden seemed caught between emotions of sorrow and humor, while the Messenger…well, his eyes shown clearly with displeasure and calculation. To my relief, he swiftly departed after that; I could not be certain whether this was due to my actions, or to his profession. Nevertheless, once more I was free from his presence…though my sire, it seemed, had now turned rather sullen with me._

_Recalling the time when he had touched me with the tip of his tail, I asked him quietly if I had done anything wrong._

_From a distance, he seemed to return to himself. (_No, you did not, Priestess…with perhaps two exceptions, you alone are allowed to touch me. However, displaying this unique facet of our relationship does not occur often, nor is it expected by many._)_

_I did not know what to say in response. Glancing at me briefly, he went on: (_For future reference, I would advise you to refrain from doing that again…at least not in public_.)_

_For some reason even then, when I had no conscious reason to be upset by his words, something inside of me panged with hurt. However, I could hide such unreasonable sadness well enough…just as I could accept what he had said as well…._

In the present, I took my place near my dark seraph and knelt, my robes spreading about me in a thin, semi-transparent pool. I lifted my arms, the palms of my hands facing the sky, my head bowed. Briefly, my superior touched my hair (for it seemed his own words did not apply to him), and turned away from me, stepping out into the center of the design I had created in the past few hours. Though I was not supposed to watch the next part, I peered up at him through my eyelashes, noting how he raised his arms to the sun, his tail twisting behind him slowly. The air on the summoning grounds seemed to become charged - I could feel the tiny hairs on my arms rising. I kept myself perfectly still as the chalk beneath us both began to glow a pale-blue light, the urns' contents bursting into azure flames in the same moment, thin electrical charges darting about us. Abaddon was _glowing_, while the sky, in contrast, was darkening as the vapor from the sea air condensed from horizon to horizon. Pregnant clouds formed above us, heavy with the much needed rain. The drought our country was experiencing would not persist past this day: the storm would come upon us now.

It formed overhead with his will and my aid, and for this I was caught between awe and thankfulness.

It…was miraculous: nature bowed to him!

And then a single drop fell and landed in my palm.

All at once the clouds opened up, the rain falling and splashing down around us and across the land. There was no end to it in the overcast sky: it encompassed all of the heavens above. From below I could hear delighted cheering, and I grinned to myself as I watched my designs getting washed away: so much for all of my hard work. As the last of the white powder dissolved, and the fires were extinguished, my seraph turned about to face me. I rose, somewhat shakily, and gazed at the setting we were now caught within. The sea had turned to liquid steel, melding with the edges of the iron sky. The optical illusion confused my eyes, so I focused on Abaddon and myself instead. The rain struck my hot flesh, cooling it and trickling down it. The sensation was so alien to me, so touching and so sweet.

I…I savored it.

Abruptly, my guardian asked, (_Are you cold, Arei?_)

His inquiry struck me as odd: he didn't normally inquire as to how I was feeling. Keeping the surprise from my voice, I told him that I felt fine, even though I was confused at his interest. It seemed that he cared for me, and yet at the same time he did not. It was not an easy thing to explain, but…his asking seemed more due to obligation and mild curiosity than affection. Some part of was not pleased with this concept, though I could not describe what I truly desired or why I did so, nor what precise emotion of discontent I possessed was.

God Abaddon looked away, gazing out at the silver sea as its waves crashed against the shores. In that moment, I felt so untouched by the blessing of the divine even as the rain fell upon me. My amazement for it had fled as reality had settled back into place. There was a moment of silence between us…and then, the dark one spoke. (_We would not wish for you to become ill, my Priestess. Let us go inside where it is warm and dry._)

His voice was toneless and carried no hint of emotion…he passed me by, reaching the edge of the summoning grounds.

"…No."

My own voice startled me, especially as I analyzed the emotions it held: defiance…the desire to stay where I was…the reluctance to return inside, despite the growing chill. I knew my own reasoning, and how childish it would surely seem to him, but right then I found I did not care.

(_What?_) His voice had gained an edge it had never held before, at least not when speaking to me…he was evidently displeased.

In a detached sort of way, I kept my expression tranquil as I looked back at him. "It's not what you think."

My words did not sooth him. (_Is that so, woman? And how would you what thoughts are in my mind, High Priestess Dovasary?_)

I didn't miss how he'd become so rigidly formal. My response to him was to merely sigh, and wonder why I was so insistent in this wish of mine. Knowing I had best explain myself, I murmured to him what it was I wanted. "God Abaddon, please understand, I…I've never felt the rain before. It is so wrong of me to want to experience it for myself?"

The rainfall around us was the only sound for a time. Then just a bit, almost to the point where I could not tell the difference, his eyes softened as he contemplated my words. (_No…no, of course that is not wrong of you. We shall stay out here a few moments more, if that is what you desire…but then we shall return inside promptly, do you understand?_)

I nodded…and then closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I held out my arms in front of me…the liquid splashed against my skin, and ran down my neck, my face, my arms, coming to cling in tiny, crystal pearls in my hair. I was soaked and cold, and yet…it felt….

It felt wonderful….

**

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**

MEWTWO:

By this point her smile should not have caught me off guard…yet the sheer, blissful joy of it shocked me as it always had. It struck me in that moment that, even after a month had passed, she was still incredibly raw and fresh to the world. Oh yes, she _was_ growing, that much was entirely undeniable. For instance, when Orobus had sent up a hot kettle of tea for refreshments, she had begun to cuss vehemently after her fingers had graced the scorching metal. Coming from her, the usage of such colorful language had made me stare, and when noticing my expression, Arei's face had flushed with shame. It seemed that this girl did not wish to invoke my distaste; instead she sought my care and affection. In a manner, I could understand her yearnings: she was looking to me as a sort of guardian figure, yet her views of me were far from those a daughter would bear…that much was obvious to me.

All the same, I had already decided against allowing her to grow close to me. So, to the best of my abilities, I would deny her wishes. If she longed for a companion she could turn to other humans; risky it might be for her, but better that than give her heart to me. At most she and I could be respectful acquaintances…but nothing more intimate than that. It was something she would have to understand as time progressed. After all, what reason was there to allow myself to grow fond of her, when all others had never received such treatment? Did she think of herself as so deserving and unique as to merit special treatment? I would admit that in ways she tempted me to provide her what warmth I possessed. Still, the familiarity I felt for many of the things she did was something I could quash within myself, and so did so whenever it arose. Yet as I turned to view her in full, I wondered…:

Why did I do this? Why was I allowing her to stand out here in the rain? I had no personal reasons to remain under the beating of the perception I despised…and yet here I was near her, consenting to this…why did I…?

Her arms fell to her sides abruptly, and slowly the girl opened her eyes, the red-violet color of her gaze dulled as they reflected the grey hues of the sky above us both. "All right," she murmured, "I'm ready to go back inside now."

In step with one another we began to walk back to the confines of the Temple. At one point her eyes met mine, and their depths were alight with a glow of clarity that my turbulent mind resented. Quietly, she said, "Thank you, Abaddon, for allowing me to stay out here - I know you didn't wish to."

Gazing firmly ahead, I refused to allow myself to look into her face; if I did, she would fully comprehend the extent of my aggravation, which only continued to grow as I noticed how she had dropped my title. Did she assume that just because I had let her soak herself in the downpour that we were automatically closer now? What a foolish girl…! And yet perhaps even worse than her response was my own…for even as I felt hot anger stirring inside my chest, a tiny shard of me was _grateful_ for her lack of formality. It seemed that even if she had called my by a false name – one as false my Godhood - that some small part of my soul was warmed by her _personal _thanks.

I despised her so much then.

In my displeasure I forced my thoughts away from her. I chose to muse on my true name instead, upon the name I had forsaken with the shifting flow of time: 'Mewtwo.' It had been so terribly long since anyone on this planet had called me by it. True, even though it represented a time in my life I sought only to repress, a time I wished to tear into shreds and burn the pieces into ash, the creature I had been during that epoch was who I truly was. And hence, no matter the suffering and betrayal I'd endured with it as a label upon my soul…I missed it. It had been my only true possession after all, that name, and it had also proved a link to a past before the pain, a past in which I had been just another innocent child. In that time of purity, my company had been a sweet, wonderful little girl and her friends. That strange human and her fake pokemon had never judged me; they had accepted me into their group, their dreams, and had given me happiness….

Yet reality was swift to return and strike me, in the form of this world and the woman at my side. It broke me from my wistfulness, and I would have laughed bitterly at the universe and myself if I had been alone. For I knew that never again would any being on this Earth call me by that old name. Perhaps that was even for the best, for the creature known as Mewtwo had no place in this world. Furthermore, the name brought up too many agonizing memories: of loss, of abuse, of a meaningless life. Such recollections of torment had no place in the spirit of a firm ruler.

No; like the billions of lives lost when the world had succumbed to the Winds-of-Water, that forgotten being was gone, extinguished, his name never to be uttered again. Now to all of them, I was Abaddon...and that was how it would always remain….

**

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**A.N.:** ...Wrong, Mewtwo. You're so very wrong. Furthermore, you're in denial. We'll see how long you struggle. Anyhow, things should be starting to grow clearer, but I'll wait and see what you all think. Please leave a review! Thanks.

- WiseAbsol


	7. Unreasonable Acts

**Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon or Arei (sighs).**

**Author's Note: **Ah, this is where we begin to see the world view. Suffice to say it's rather more screwed up that we'd like to think.

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- E N T R Y VI. -

**_Date – May 4__th__, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:_**

_There are times in our lives when we do things without a reason behind our actions. We do not think in these incidences but act unreasonably upon pure emotion; however, we do not see this as unreasonable at the time. When we are children, we are far more inclined to do this: we might chase a soccer ball into a busy street…we might attempt to pet a stray dog…we might place a magnet onto a computer screen to watch it turn pretty colors...we might turn the curtains of the window into fabric snowflakes. These silly stunts can be dismissed with the young age, and being scolded usually deters the child against a repeat of the incident. Yet even when the person matures into an adult, they suffer acts of near recklessness: giving a kiss to a stranger…speeding with a car...playing with fire for the thrill of it. As we grow, our moments of thoughtlessness become grander and far-reaching in their implications. After all, when a child hits someone it can be viewed as a bad temperament, punishable by the removal of toys or television. When an adult strikes someone however, it can bring about investigations into abuse, or it can sever ties between people that were otherwise close. Regardless, after we have done the unbelievable we usually wonder at our shocking actions, which are so uncharacteristic of ourselves and most likely embarrassing or foolish…yet of course, when in our spontaneous movements themselves, we believe ourselves to be utterly justified._

**

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AREI:

The grand hall held numerous clusters of different people today, each individual milling about and discussing matters of business in low voices with those in their same occupation. Many of them hailed from the city below the Temple, and yet others, tell-tale with their unusual outfits and dialects, were members of other dwellings scattered about the kingdom. My eyes wandered over each of them, wide with interest, my ears nearly twitching as I heard snatches of different languages and expressions of speech unfamiliar to me. The melding of the nation's population was something I rather enjoyed, for they brought differences with the Temple walls that broke up the monotone I usually experienced. Sadly, these meetings did not ever last very long. Assemblies like this one didn't often take more than four hours to complete themselves, despite the amount of people who needed to speak with my God and with others in the Holy Order. Initially, there weren't many alterations in the proceedings that had been evident in other gatherings prior: merchants paid their respects as they always did, and looked for new potential partners in trade; nobles fluttered about, flirtatious among their group in an almost incestuous way; the Priests kept to themselves, too occupied with their superiority to bother to mingle; and Byron was allowed to blow out his voice by the second hour, rendering him near mute if he tried to speak above a curse. Thankfully for him, the public hour was closing by that point, and the room became restricted to private conversations among high officials.

Yet unlike assemblies before this one, the militia had arrived back in the capital after finishing their annual yearly travels across the country. As a result, the Commander of our guardian forces was now present to discuss matters with the other leaders of the Orders. As I understood it, there were three main factions within the Temple hierarchy. These were - to put it in the simplest manner I could grasp - the Holy Order, the Military Order, and the Common Order. From there the groups splintered into various contrasting memberships, extending downwards into the peasantry and upwards to the God and myself. How the factions all fit together was perplexing, for there were many tiny details one had to take into account; but I knew the basic setup for the high posts of my own membership. As it had been explained to me, beneath Abaddon's and my position was the Attendant, the Priests, and the Commander, for the men were leaders of their Orders, and generally had the same amount of stature. However, while concerning matters of our religion or governmental issues, the Commander had the least say; but if it was a matter of internal affairs or national defense, the Commander then had more power than the Priests. The Attendant was usually a neutral party between the two, balancing the situation for the benefit of the people.

For most of the year, these people did not have any reason or chance to clash. A large percentage of the army forces (that wasn't devoted to the defense of our cities and the Temple) were out patrolling, searching for raiding parties, or more importantly, the rebellious heretics that sought to tear down the theocracy that had been installed for close to a century now. The Rebels were not people I knew very much about, but it had been sternly suggested from all those loyal to me that I avoid anything associated with the outcasts. Apparently, for me to do otherwise would be more than political suicide: it was asking to be executed by both sides of the law.

At any rate, beneath the leading individuals rankings began to become fuzzy. Below the Attendant rank were the Handmaidens, whose position was above most army officers and nobility (which, I had been told, often mingled). However, for all their stature they had utterly no decision-making power: they were there to aid me in my tasks as a High Priestess, which was supposedly honorable enough to satisfy. Lesser than they but with more voice depending on their position, an imperial servant could be as high in office as a noble or wealthy merchant. The 'High' and 'Master' placements were the top two levels they could achieve. The positions of 'Journeyman', 'Apprentice', and 'Novice,' on the other hand, could not even be said to rank as high as a successful trader - who apparently could enter the nobility through marriage contracts or through enough funding and time. Below the pious and wealthy was the peasantry, the lowest ranks taken by those in virtual slavery, criminals, or others with shady occupations.

Thrown into that whole confusing web were people who belonged to none of these Classes or Orders (such as foreigners), or belonged to more than one group, _or_ had a ranking that had nothing to do with governmental power! For example, the Imperial Physician, who attended to both Abaddon and me: in status, he was equal to Byron because of his work, but in power he was the same as most Imperial Masters of the Temple hierarchy. In short the system was complex enough to give me a headache as my mind tried to make sense of it. Naturally, I wasn't paying much attention to the squadrons that filed in at the time, or to their leaders and the Commander himself – the breakdown of the militia was just another bewildering subject.

Truth be told, I was rather exhausted from speaking as my God's advocate for hours now, and my muscles were stiff from not moving for nearly as long. I had stayed up the entire night prior trying to memorize the ranking of the arriving Classes I wasn't familiar with. I had needed to learn their badges in order to identify them aptly: The Holy Classes were of God, High Priestess, Attendant, Council of Priests, Handmaidens, Nobles, and Imperial Servants. The Military Classes were Commander and on down through their mess of rankings. Last were the most populated Common Classes: the Merchants, the Peasantry, and the lesser citizens. Each type wore a symbol: the crescent moon and star…the cross and claymore…and the teardrop of blood.

The worst part of it was that this was just my own country: there were empires reputed to be set up completely differently simply because the gender of their seraph wasn't male! The varied governments were definitely among the matters that I had to know for my own sake, but would I ever be able to fully grasp it? I seriously doubted that, and by the heavens I was tired! Nearly bored to tears and lacking any more energy, I began to nod off. The monotone of the soldiers' roll call was becoming a hum within my ears...I couldn't even take interest in their Partners, who otherwise would have delighted me with their various shapes and elements. Abaddon noticed my behavior, and told me in a murmur that I could lean my head against him and take a nap if I wanted to – evidently, I deserved the break. After all, it was the people I needed to be concerned with, and I had done well with them; and the army was his to observe and it was his task to hear their reports. I could rest now…they would understand, and likely be more at ease if I were not listening. While this point seemed odd to me, I was too weary to ponder it, and did as he suggested. Drifting off with his soft fur as a pillow beneath my head was so easy…with a quiet sigh I fell into my dreamscape….

_

* * *

_

As if aware that innocent ears had fallen deaf when the girl curled up against the God, whose tail surrounded her lightly for support, the men and women of the militia began to relax. Once role call was complete, the soldiers filed out of the main chamber of the Temple in a quick march, barely capable of remaining stoic as they were dismissed to their barracks. After months of traveling they were now officially on their ten-week leave! Ignoring the excited shouts rising from on the grounds, the remaining personal swiftly began to discuss the more serious matters of business. Before them Commander Talyn stood straight and rigid, while the Priests once more took their mahogany seats. The charismatic man walked over to the God and bowed low in a show of deep faith, and gazed in some puzzlement at the new Priestess before him. Perhaps all the faces of God Abaddon's women began to blur with time, but the young one seemed familiar to him, as if she were someone he had once spied and then forgot.

_Shaking his head of such thoughts, he said to the seraph in an unofficial note, "I had heard that Kara was poisoned during our return, my Lord, but it is always an unpleasant shock to find a different priestess in the place of the one I left. This one…this Arei…she's almost a child still."_

_The God did not comment; Talyn had not expected Abaddon to, and it was not as if the Commander could continue his statements without becoming something of what he fought against: for he did not approve of the God's choice. He was certain the holy creature had his reasons, however, she was so very young, and it seemed a shame that she had barely begun to live her life before it would end. She would probably not last long enough to experience her twentieth birthday, nor have any children of her own. Despite the cruelty of the harsher world outside the hallowed walls, she could have had so much more for herself…but now here she was, to be honored by all and condemned by all. She slept now with her head resting on her sire's thigh, as nothing more than a tool, a mouthpiece, and a scapegoat. _

_Indeed it was quite a great shame. Yes; perhaps the life she presently possessed was a sweet one…but was it worth it, when her life would likely be forfeited within the next couple of years? Oh, of all the things his God had done, therein lie the only action Commander Talyn could begin to despise: that with all the power he possessed, God Abaddon could not…no, _would not_ protect the person closest to him. He allowed his chosen females to die by refusing to simply extend the protection Talyn knew he could give in order to save them from those against them. Gazing at the current Attendant, the leader of the Military Order knew this feeling was mutual between them. After all, Kara had meant so much to the boy: she had been Byron's cousin, for the love of Goddess Ai! The shock of losing a family member needlessly might have driven anyone mad and astray from the righteous path. Yet here the Attendant remained, serving the seraph loyally and smiling at the young woman who had taken Kara's place. Despite the young man's youth, Talyn was willing to admit that he respected that type of faith and strength immensely. _

_Both his own had long since been rigorously tested in his work. As he looked on the fortunate, poor Priestess again, he felt again the sensation of de-ja-vu. She looked so very familiar…but he shoved that thought aside forcefully. Putting a name to the face, the first and true one, was not wise and would only result in inner turmoil. After all, that old name now belonged to a corpse: the creature before him was merely the result of what had come of its death. _

_Shaking his head once more, the wanderer gave his fellows his reports, hearing the whispers of debate flood the undertones of the echoes in the vast room. As the official approached the conclusion of new facts and recent events, the voices of the others became constrained arguing, rarely leaving a manageable pitch and volume due to the sleeping female. It was, he thought, a rather pleasant change from the shouting that would surely be going on otherwise. After all, only when concerning certain Rebels did the military and holy forces agree on anything: their goals concerning the heretics, at least, were the same._

_And slowly everyone - especially the seraph - began to notice the stirrings of the High Priestess._

_No one commented on it._

**

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AREI:

_Within the fire danced golden devils, who bared their fiery teeth at me, as if their evil smiles might seduce me to step into their scorching, ravishing embraces. Beyond their circles were other faces, contrasting them as liquid images, blurred and tainted with flickering shadows. I jerked fitfully among them, caught between their nightmarish stares and the waking world. I could feel within the core of my mind Abaddon's fur against my cheek, and felt my fingertips clutching at him as a lifeline…yet my eyes saw only smoke. Sputtering and choking on the noxious fumes, I tried in vain to find fresh air as the black mists surrounded me and wrapped me in ash and cinder. The gray particles filled my lungs, which in response closed up, horrified to let something so toxin into my body. Without breath I could not cry out for help as I longed to do, and I shuddered in a cold sweat that attempted to keep the heat of the flames at bay. Yet I could see the devils dancing, trying to stroke my fragile skin…they were everywhere, and everything was burning! _

_From somewhere removed from the blaze I felt Abaddon's paw stroking at my hair soothingly. The vague touch could scarcely calm me anymore: my fear mounted tenfold as the fiery circle began to close in around me, coming ever closer to searing my tiny form. Above the laughter and cackles of the demon dancers, I could hear voices: they shouted for doors to be locked, for evidence to be destroyed, to declare this burning an example to all. _

_I did not understand. As a mere child in this dream how could I comprehend anything? The world skipped, and my place in Hell altered: I now hid beneath burning floorboards, huddled against scorching stone, screaming silently with terror in my fragile mind. The blood of those that had made me seeped down, and through the cracks of the slates, through the flames, I saw again the dark faces…as the fiery wind washed everything scarlet gold, they became ever clearer to me-._

-I started awake with a sharp cry; someone, the Commander I believe, stopped in mid-sentence upon noting my return to reality. God Abaddon's paw was still against my hair, now at the base of my skull, and I knew he could feel my trembling. The others before us all gazed upon me, silent and uncertain…the one I did not know seemed especially unsettled.

Our unfamiliarity naturally drew my attention to him, for he was the stranger here among the group I'd grown accustomed to. However, some sense gave lie to that belief: even as I knew that I had never had the opportunity to meet him before, his face struck me with the force of someone slugging me in the stomach. I found in that revolting moment recognition of that sharp expression, those angles of his face, the raven-wing black hair that was streaked with grey and blue tones. The way he grew his mustache and his beard together in a fine stubble, the way he held his firmly built body, his clothes, his _eyes_…though the last was now gentle with concern, I seemed to recall a time when it had been otherwise. Impossible; but without a specific reason or the knowledge of why, the flames in my nightmare seemed to return to me, settling hotly and twisting in my stomach like snakes. I felt sick, and utter fury was the disease…I was angered to the point of illness or - in retrospect - transient insanity.

The next several seconds passed in a blur: was I dreaming again?

No.

My memory of the following moments is fractured:

I remember pulling free of my seraph and rushing towards that man.

I remember crying out a word, though what it was I said now escapes me.

I remember feeling such intense, sheer revulsion for him that the feeling went by another name: _hatred_.

And last I remember expressing that to him by striking him as hard as I could across the face.

There had been no thought to it: emotion had overwhelmed as terror twisted with rage into a force that scorched my spirit. When I returned to myself I was shaking visibly, hyperventilating, and my hand stung as I watched the man stagger back. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he proceeded to regain his bearings and touch his face, and he gazed at me in a form of horrified shock that nearly leveled me. His expression then flickered with something I did not understand: was it realization, comprehension?

No; like me he did not understand what I had just done. He babbled out something I did not hear, very aware that I - his High Priestess, his superior - had just struck him with all of my strength. He surely must have wondered what in the world he had done to merit my wrath. After all, we had never before met, so what could he have possibly done to arouse my fury?

I didn't know; and abruptly the hate fled me, drowned by the enormity of my actions. My palm again smarted, and the stares upon me became penetrating as they sought to understand. Trembling now with self-consciousness, I found myself barely capable of looking at the Commander, and against my teachings I whispered a frightened apology to him. For the life of me, I could not think of what wrong he'd committed against me. If anything he had only been keeping me safe these past few months after my Rebirth. Furthermore, he did not seem to be a cruel man in that minute – merely startled. He raised no hand against me in retaliation…and that alone made me feel wretched.

I…ran from them. Like a child I ran away in horror from the situation I had made, passing my Attendant and my God, the latter of which I could not find the strength to gaze upon: I knew I would find only displeasure in his eyes. And so I fled up into the sanctuary of my quarters, interrogating myself on what I'd done, just as much as the Commander was surely doing back in the grand hall. As I clutched the sheets of my bed tightly, breathing in their soothing scents, I found that it made no sense to me. Why had I hit that man?

_Why…?_

**

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MEWTWO:

Business meetings were not supposed to be so dramatic; perhaps this was the price I paid for choosing an adolescent female as my High Priestess. I might have taken into account her past and sent her up to her quarters for slumber, yet I had declined that option like an arrogant fool. Instead of taking the safe course, I had possessed too much faith in the notion that nothing remained of her old self, and faith in my ability to curb her sleeping terrors. Clearly I had been gravely mistaken in my beliefs…what that suggested made me frown deeply and clutch the arms of my seat. Suspicions began to formulate themselves within my brain…if they were valid I would most likely need to prepare and brace myself for more of that undesirable behavior in the future. Little things like this could easily begin to build, to escalate in her soul's exponential growth; under my breath the thought made me curse. Nevertheless, of all the things she could have done wrong today, she had to have slapped the leader of the militia in the face! Had he not been the kind of devoted follower he was, I might have been amused and impressed with her display…but concerning him, I could not help but think her a terrible fool…!

Byron made a motion that seemed to indicate that he would go after her, but I stood, shaking my head. (_Leave her be - we shall not trail after her like a group of fretting hens. May I remind you that we have a meeting to finish? Be seated, all of you!_)

They obeyed, chilled by the sharp, frigid tone my voice possessed, so like a splinter of ice. Before they could begin to chatter upon the incident like gossiping students, I prompted the Commander to continue. (_What was it you were saying about a nest, Talyn?)_

My military head continued his briefing. "We have Intelligence reports that lead us to believe that the Rebels have established a base in the southeast mountain range. Recon has confirmed that there is activity in the region, and at least one Captor of the Holy Children has been confirmed among the supply crew. As many of my officers are on their breaks presently, I suggest that I be allowed to take fresh troops from the Temple Protectorate with their Partners to capture the complex."

The titles rang oddly in my mind, even after so many years of their use: 'Holy Children'…'Partners'…also known as my fellow pokemon. Their Captors, the trainers of old, trained them in teams of slaves…while my own forces trained _with them_ as equal individuals. There was a vast difference between the two, and it made all the difference in the new world: for in one way the pairing of humans and pokemon was a voluntary agreement…the other was not so acceptable. The Legendaries - the Parthenon - did not condone the wretched treatment that their descendants, their people, were being forced by some to experience…being a master of pokemon was a vice that the humans would be wise to forfeit completely.

If they did not, force would be used upon them. The world dimmed as my pupils narrowed with the thought of the war being waged against those who refused to give up the old ways. (…_Do you believe this to be an important stronghold_?) I questioned.

Talyn gave me a curt nod. "I do. For one thing, the amount of resources being smuggled there from the ruins leaves little room for doubt. For another, there are rumors circulating that have mentioned the presence of members of their old ruling families multiple times: supposedly, the Ketchum descendants are at this base."

The old name sparked something deep within me: perhaps pity, annoyance, even sorrow or loathing. The legacy of that strange child and his redheaded friend had proven to be most troublesome…I had spared their lives, and they had come to make me regret that gift through their descendants. Yes; locating THAT lineage was a rare and precious discovery, and would be a difficult - albeit invaluable - capture for the army, as strong as my forces were. To rid the Rebels of someone from that familial branch would give me quite an excellent prize against the so-called "heretics": it would weaken them in both morale and firepower, and provide information that might be the key to the group's undoing.

Contemplating the possibilities, I gave him the permission he desired. (You have my authorization to seize the base; capture as many as you can manage, both human and Child alike. If you need use deadly force to quell their fighting, you may…but try to bring me the leaders if you can: probing their minds could prove fruitful to our cause.)

Otherwise known as the 'Cleansings,' our campaign sought to purge the land of those who stubbornly kept those of my kind as servants and used them as weapons against us. Those guerilla fighters were dangerous pests, seeking to create havoc in a system that had worked far longer in eliminating war than any other global bid for peace and tolerance before it. After all, in the previous century there had always been tiny wars between countries: despite being a so-called 'civilized age,' the era of my birth had been far from lethal to the Earth and its creatures. Yet now these non-believers insisted upon fighting a changed world…and when theirs was the only war on the planet, they were far better off completely destroyed instead of shunned. They were better off crushed than allowed to breed and swarm us all….

Did I expect the extermination to be an easy task, and that my forces would ultimately succeed? In part, I did. However, even though the flow of the humanity was against the usurpers, the Rebels had powerful forces on their side to work against the tide. It was more than simply their slaves they could battle us with: they had weapons of mass warfare as well. Within their hands they held projectile weapons, chemical gases, bombs…and occasionally the means for _nuclear explosions_. The heretics possessed pure, elemental energy from their teams…and the destructive force of _guns_.

Thankfully they had never gained the means of biological warfare – lethal viruses remained outside their sphere of violence. As well, what the rebellion possessed in firepower they ultimately lacked in numbers. Yes; it might very well take decades, but eventually they would be wiped out: their pitiful trickle of recruits and their sentimental hearts would ensure their inevitable demise…of that I was certain.

On that note the meeting concluded…there was nothing more to say.

**

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****Author's Note: **Yeah…there's a war going on. Mewtwo's not as good as you all hoped – he never really got over the concept of mass genocide. Try supporting the clone now with a straight face. This is where everything begins to get very messy….

Anyhow, please leave a review! I know you people are out there...I can see the chapter stats and tell how many times you all looked at the last one and did not leave any comments! Please? I'd like to know what you all think of the entry.

Well, thanks for reading. See ya'.

- WiseAbsol


	8. Sanctuary

**Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon or Arei.**

**A.N.: **I sincerely apologize for the long wait – suffice to say I've been incredibly busy, and still am, but in a few free hours of time I managed to do some revision to this chapter. I would like to thank Louisa and Aeris for their continued help on this story; I realize I don't say how grateful I am enough. Also, I must thank my pottery teacher: this chapter is largely based on your lessons.

At any rate, here's hoping those who are still hanging around this fic will enjoy the update! See ya'.

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- E N T R Y VII. -

_**Date – May 5th, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.: **_

_During their lives, people fall into times of immense stress. In these incidences, they attempt to relax and distract themselves from the issues troubling them by doing something they enjoy, by speaking with friends or family, or by wandering to a place where they can unwind. Yet some individuals of society lack these options. They possess no activities in their lives that inspire joy, or perhaps once the distraught sensations become too much to endure, they may discover they can no longer stand to take pleasure in a favorite pursuit, because it merely reminds them that they are running from their problems, and so their minds dart back to the conflict itself. Or perhaps the ailed ones are utterly alone or incapable of trust; who then can they confide in? With no one to lean upon, the sufferers must instead bear their burdens in solitude, which can crush their souls slowly, agonizingly. However, if all else fails the crumbling ones might stumble upon a personal haven, a home for their forlorn spirits. Maybe it is only then, when they find somewhere they belong, that they might truly find some semblance of peace…._

* * *

**AREI:**

Courage and cowardice are on the opposing sides of a coin, a tin piece forged in the hopes of providing self-preservation to its spender. Yet once the coin is spent in full, we are usually where we started before pulling the currency from the wallets of our spirit's wealth: a conflict remains unsolved, for a moment of foolishness - whether of positive or negative value - matters little. In my case, summoning up the bravery to quit my vacated chambers was mingled with fear, and my only comfort came from the fact that the "incident" had not occurred during a public meeting. Had the situation been otherwise, and the entire land seen my folly, I would have never emerged from my rooms!

When I did step through the exit, the sun's fiery border had only just breached the desert sands of the east. In the hours of the twilight, intermitted with the cries of the returned soldiers celebrating their arrival home, God Abaddon had not come to speak to me about my actions against the military leader. He seemed to sense my wariness in broaching the subject, as well as my desire to reject his presence for the moment in my uncertainty. Quietly, my robes kissing the stone beneath my sandals, I strayed down the halls and staircases to the ground level of the Temple. At this early, slumbering hour, scarcely anyone else had drifted awake or wandered through the marble passageways. Of those who had brought themselves to stir from under the seduction of Morpheus, the cooks were the only ones who did so with thoughtful intent, their labors dedicated to preparing breakfast for the hollowed occupants who darted through the kitchens. Ducking my head as I peered into the hot rooms, the air heavy with the odor of baking bread, I darted forward and snatched up a chunk of bread, a small block of yellow cheese, and an apple, and held the wrinkled fruit between my teeth as I retreated. Its nectar tasted rather sour, shot with wine, I noted as I fled like a vixen from the chambers, uncaught in my thievery. Eating my meager meal as I sprinted, I managed to weave to the other side of the Temple without being spotted by my subordinates. Surely the only thing that allowed me to move undetected was that the other early risers possessed drowsy eyes and sluggish minds which I lacked now. Otherwise, their noticing me would have caused an undeniable stir, drawing attention to myself which I did not desire. Yet I made it unnoted to a large windowsill in the library, and there I curled up to finish my meal. The broken apple core was thrown from the propped open glass for the murder of Murkrow to peck upon. For a time I stayed still in my perch, watching the western horizon lighten with the glow from the rising sun on the other pole of the firmament, lost among the silent books and my staggering thoughts.

Should I return to my quarters to avoid panicking everyone? Recalling the disaster of yesterday's meeting, I cringed inwardly at the idea…I still had no explanation for my disturbed actions, and so nothing with which to defend myself against the "righteous" comments of others. Yes, I fully recalled the malevolent fury, the rabid poltergeist of emotion that had seemed to possess me. Yet this blaze of rage offered no logical motive for striking the Commander. As of such, how could I simply return with so flimsy a shield against my seraph's inquiries? Another wince followed the first as I attempted to imagine what he might say to me, and how he might wield his cutting perception against me. What would he do when I appeared before him as I eventually must? Anyone else could raise no hand against me, but he…well, though I knew he would never harm me through aggravation, he could easily make my life as miserable as it had been pleasant thus far. _That_ was _well_ within his power! Sighing, tilting my forehead into my palm, I wondered whether he would even let me speak, and if he did, what I would tell him. Would I confess that a nightmare had led me into an intense hatred that had forced my hand to strike the leader of his army? _Ridiculous_…that would hardly go over well! While images from reality were prone to seep into dreams, that fact was no reason for me to act upon them; especially when the Commander's face may have simply entered my mind because his image was the last one I had seen before drifting off.

So either the assault had implications I was still unaware of or it had been a grave mistake. Embarrassing as it was to admit, even to myself, it seemed far more likely to be some strange fluke in reasoning…and hence, I was still in quite a bit of trouble….

How long, I asked myself, could I prolong the inevitable confrontation with my God?

Exhaling sharply in irritation, I rose from the windowsill and began to storm through the hallways, holding no particular destination in mind. I cursed myself then as I wandered, using a variety of blistering obscenities that I had heard Byron utter when he thought I was not listening. Yet no matter how I picked at my mind, I could not find insight into what I had done. Should I merely fabricate a motive? Never before had I lied, as Abaddon had told me such falsities were to be used only as a last resort, and if I were so desperate that I should make my lies grand in stature, for those were more believable than half-truths. However, I comprehended swiftly that this situation did not call for that, as tempting as the thought was. Thus, frustrated and fuming at myself, my muscles continued to coil with apprehension. I needed an outlet, a release for my turbulent emotions…I did not wish to snap at someone as my Handmaidens did when they festered with their problems. Following their example would only make me feel worse after I had calmed down! So instead I explored chambers near the library and decided to try to avoid anyone I could while doing so, making a game of my evasions. Arei dodged three people; the Temple had not caught her yet: Arei – 3, Temple – 0.

To explain, I was well accustomed to the basic layout of my home, but as in a mansion to a toddler, there were numerous tiny spaces that had escaped my previous discovery and were undocumented in the Temple's structural blueprints. Wordlessly I passed from familiar hallways into the northern quadrant of the Temple…and suddenly, the silence that had so long encompassed me grew ragged with the lists of conversation. At first the sound perplexed me, for the tone was unfamiliar, lacking the crispness of business debates. In its place was the warmth of playful discussion, interpreted in my mind as the friendly chattering between a close-knit gathering of companions. The women, as their feminine voices indicated, sounded as if they were enjoying themselves, and the bursts of laughter and mock outraged cries immediately drew me towards them. It was so unfamiliar to me, the sound of it…. True, I had not been completely engrossed in a serious environment, for sometimes Abaddon and Byron allowed me to relax and have much-needed good fun, but this was different. This was unguarded conversation, carefree jabbering…and I found it alluring, like an intoxicating scent. Stepping ever forward, my ears soon detected the tinkling of trickling water and a strange hum, which mingled appealingly with the melody of easy gossip.

The room I arrived at was what appeared to be one for the pursuit of the arts, specifically pottery. Down the length of one wall was a shallow trough, into which free-running water poured from a thin pipe attached to the stone above it, pooled in the basin, and then spiraled down a drain into yet more pipes. The structure was at waist height, filled with dirty bowls, tools, and sponges, and its water was sullied with gray mud. To the far side of the chamber, pale powders were mixed into a thin liquid that filled several deep buckets. Beyond the blending area was a furnace venting scorching air throughout the building – this was a kiln, I realized. Directly before me were the dozen occupants I had been hearing, all sitting at individual pottery wheels, with their thighs flexing and their bare feet scuffing at the disks to manually turn the connected upper wheel. Their hands skillfully manipulated chunks of clay into desired forms, into heavy bowls, delicate plates, and elegant vases – some being abstract, some to be used, some simply for the purpose of decoration. Dozens of finished pieces lay out on a central table, awaiting their first firing, while others were pale as bleached bone, bisque waiting for a coating of glaze and then another turn in the vast furnace. In some of the dishes, I spied the iridescent glimmering of shards of colored glass, which would be melted into shallow pools in their depths for swirling shades of sapphire, emerald, and garnet. I watched these artists work, enrapt, fascinated, each moment inching my way fully into the doorway, yet an unnoticed and unseen admirer.

However, my invisibility could not last long.

As I watched, one of the potter's creations folded over itself, the ruined dish unable to be salvaged. The molder of moist earth sighed and cut the shapeless clay from the ebony wheel, throwing the twisted blob into a bucket reserved for failed formations. Standing, intending to obtain for herself a fresh dome of clay, her eyes flickered upon my still form. To my dismay, she reacted by gasping sharply and very nearly threw her body at my feet in her surprise and ingrained teachings. Her swift motion gripped the attention of everyone else in the room, and their movements stiffened and their expressions contorted into formal masks. This was how it was supposed to be…as their empress, their _holy leader_, I was to be bowed to and held in high regard, but for more reasons than my own discomfort I seized, upset. For the sake of providing me honor and respect, clay creations of vast grandeur were left unattended, and the women working near the flames of the kiln paused, tongs in hand, to pay me mind instead of the dangerous blaze dancing near them. Fearful for the half-formed art and for the safety of the gathering, I anxiously waved away their attempts to bow, sputtering that it was unnecessary – they could not afford to be distracted from their work without unfortunate consequences. In this case it seemed utterly absurd, and torn between worship and common sense the women paused, halfway into new stances, and their eyes darted away from me to a single person. Only then did I realize that Marie was among the artists, and she now peered at me with a quizzical expression adorning her face.

Thank the gods for a familiar face…! "Marie," I cried desperately, "tell them to stop this! I do not care if they bow, and their work-!"

The woman, to my relief, took charge of the situation, straightening her back and casting her eyes over her fellows. "Everyone, your High Priestess gave you an order," she called in a solemn voice, and murmured on, "and no matter how _unconventional_ it may be we are to obey her wish, is that not so?"

There was an odd note in her tone, a lilt which took me a moment to register: humor. …She thought this was funny.

Yet her words soothed the others, and so the uncomfortable, awkward moment passed. However, as I stood on the sidelines and watched them return to their work, I noted that the feel of their conversations had shifted. Their discussions were quieter now and guarded somehow, as if a stern official who could not tolerate silly antics now presided over them, waiting to penalize one who dared to chuckle heartily. What I felt in that moment would continue to sadden and frustrate me for months to come, for with this treatment came a great sense of disappointment. A wistful longing arose in me then, a soul-deep yearning to be "normal" for the sake of being part of a group, at ease and equal to others. Abaddon would later say that in being human, my desire was only natural, for my species is above all else a social race. Though I might have been deemed different by fate, at an animal level I craved the banal, casual dynamics of a clan, unlike him who – as a large cat - preferred solitude. Despite being brought up by him, human instincts ran me just as much as his teachings, and so the wish was not overridden. So I then did what any hungering child would for the sweet they craved: I tried to obtain what I wanted by groveling.

Of course, I did this with what dignity I could muster up in that shaky moment, though understanding that even if I were successful my position would always set me apart from them on some level. Regardless, though, I yearned to meld into their group if only to savor the previously lax and open environment. I did not wish to merely watch – I wanted to join them in their task! Perhaps _then_ I would be accepted and could take part in the true laughter, meaningless teasing, scandalous gossip, the wonderful playfulness of this secluded haven. If only for a little while, I wanted to be just Arei, me, and not their High Priestess. Was that desire so alien to any outcast, to anyone removed from the status quo…?

As Marie finished her spherical bowl, I shuffled towards her nervously and gripped her robes gently to secure her attention. Softly, I asked, "Marie, could you – could you show me how this is done? I would like to try."

There - I had said it. I had not ordered her to disclose the secrets of her craft to me, but had asked as one equal might to another. I could only pray she would honestly consider rather than automatically feel obligated to-.

She gave me a lingering, probing look, and then said, "In those clothes? With your hair all loose like that?"

My fleeting hope began to flicker and die in my chest like a candle's flame running out of wick to burn…yet I nodded and inwardly braced myself for a "no." Yet astoundingly Marie, being the type of woman she was, saw my forming sorrow and sighed. "Well, if that's what you really want, who am I to get in your way? First let's try to see if we can avoid getting you messy - I doubt God Abaddon would like it if you got clay in his pristine pelt."

The others failed to fully stifle their snickers…and I was too innocent to understand what she had just inferred. Later, remembering the comment, I would blush and muse on the sheer irony of her joke, but for now I allowed my head Handmaiden to throw a large apron over me. My petite form was nearly engulfed completely in the fabric, but eventually I surfaced and tried not to wince as Marie tugged back my hair. Yet despite the minimal pain, I was glowing inside, and eagerly followed her as she drew me to the table holding blocks of clay. In the following minutes she showed me how to knead the substance and check for air pockets - if there were any in a piece being fired, the oxygen would expand and cause the pot to crack or even shatter. After about ten minutes of working a slab, we took the ready chunk to an empty wheel and slapped it down on the center of the black disk. At her gesture, I sat before the mechanism, and taking my hands in hers, her fingernails caked with cool mud, she guided my motions as I kicked the metal disk below my feet, which spun the wheel above. From there my leading Handmaiden directed me, showing me how to center and cone the clay up and down, forming it into a mound that could be manipulated into whatever type of dish I desired to create.

By this point, everyone else had begun to watch us, attempting discretion as they did so. I was shown how to make a depression down into the center of the clay, how to smooth out the bottom, and how to lift the sides up through a few techniques. A smile spread across my face, even though the sides of my dish were uneven and the bottom too thick, for this was the first time I had found pleasure beyond Abaddon's observances. That gave the experience a certain amount of…independence, freedom, despite the fact that I was hardly alone in my efforts to create my first bowl. Yet I loved the feel of it, the wet clay beneath my fingers, able to be shaped and formed into whatever I imagined…!

I made the mistake of glancing up, and finding the others staring at me I jerked in surprise, my sudden motion causing the sides of my bowl to crumple and tear. As I looked down upon it, crestfallen feelings welled in my chest at the destruction of my work – was there some significant symbolic meaning behind its ruin? Was I being told by the cosmos that this endeavor would ultimately prove fruitless? My dejected mood seemed to infect the others, who had enjoyed watching me venture into their familiar territory as much as I had enjoyed the initial exploration.

Yet Marie was unaffected by our disappointment – she instead smiled encouragingly as she cut the twisted glob from the wheel and placed it over by the finer, finished works. Seeing my bewildered expression, she said, "This is what we call _abstract_! We are all entitled to a few, right? Besides, by Zapdos' bloody talons if we are going to thrown away our High Priestess' first work of art!"

Was it truly any wonder I was fond of her? Her comments were met with low chuckled and smirks of amusement from her fellow potters as they returned to their engrossing work. My dear Marie then returned to my side and taught me how to clean up my station by scrubbing the removable black wheel and tools in the trough, our hands – of dusted white and dark chocolate – flashing in the water's spray. Then she directed me on how to mix and identify glaze without being deceived by the powder and liquid colors, for the hues transformed in intense heat. Content with my teaching after quickly quizzing me on the basics, she proceeded to leave me to my own devices…. Four hours later, I carefully leaned over a deep bowl, my breathing calm and steady as I focused entirely upon it; concentration was key in this art. Vaguely, some part of my brain was aware that I was again being watched, for I could feel eyes upon me, and my ears heard from a distance the observer's positive comments above the hum of the wheel….

"…Well, well, Marie must be a better teacher than she's let on!"

"That or the little one is a swift learner – which is probably the case, if you remember Byron's boosting."

"Or _maybe_ she was a potter in a past life!"

Their meaningful praises I absorbed eagerly, for they were not half-hearted and spoken from obligation or for flattery. Yet beyond their kind words, I was savoring this entire experience immensely, for there were few rules in this place, and I was safe as long as Marie was beside me. In fact, I felt I would be kept from harm by any of these varied people, these scribes, these servants, these gardeners, all of whom were drawn here by a common purpose and passion. As my head Handmaiden had explained it, pottery was their stress relief, their recreation, and their excuse to exchange gossip from each other's departments.

One woman laughed and added, "Besides, it does wonders to the hands!"

Appreciative lovers were mentioned, and soon the conversation spiraled into stories about intimate activities which made me flush and twitch in discomfort. While I may not catch many "dirty" jokes, I was somewhat informed of what they were discussing, mostly from conversations I had overheard before entering a room. Yet still…their enthusiasm made me want to close my "virgin ears" somehow. As I was not an animal feline though, and so unable to manipulate my ears in such a manner, I sought to distract myself from their accounts of their experiences and their giggles by humming as I worked. Beyond the muck and topic of discussion, this felt right at least, even familiar in the sensations of the ache of my muscles, of the bowl being shaped beneath my hands, of the slurry gathering between my fingers. Soon lost in my contemplations, I did not notice how the voices around me suddenly hushed, or how the room in its entirety stilled besides my own motions….

(_So _this_ is where you ran off to!_)

Abaddon's crisp snarl made me jump and my heart race from shock, and only from a pure stroke of luck did I manage to avoid damaging my bowl. Bolting from my seat, I spun around to face him and shrank back a little at what I saw: he held himself rigidly, in an unnatural state of sternness that did not befit a creature who usually embodied the virtue of grace, and his eyes were narrowed and gleamed bright blue in his anger. Everyone else had bowed to him, except for me - my form was paralyzed - and now attempted to keep their eyes lowered to avoid inciting his wrath by viewing this spectacle. Though his tone did not echo in my mind, a clear indication he was addressing me solely, they could tell from the atmosphere permeating the air around him that he was not to be tested this day. The space about him was frigid, a breath from gloomiest winter, and utterly impersonal. Yet as my initial surprise melted, so too did my fear: because for the first time I could recall, I rather _resented_ him for what his presence had done to this place, which had for a short time become a sanctuary to me. Furthermore, my God had interrupted my work…and _that_ left me rather _irked_.

Responding at last to his statement, I replied tartly, "Yes; is that alright, _my Lord_?"

His muscles twitched minutely, the equivalent to him slightly recoiling in surprise. He blinked, his muzzle wrinkling, and seeming slightly taken aback by my aggravated tone. Then, giving me a curious look devoid of irritation, he tilted his head and asked, (…_You are enjoying yourself, Priestess?_)

Having expected him to retort that my actions here were not befitting of someone in my position, or that my mingling with the servants was not acceptable behavior, my anger regarding him was curbed with confusion. "Well, yes," I murmured, somewhat uncertain at his reaction. Taking advantage of this moment, I quickly added, "And I would like to stay for awhile yet, Abaddon!"

For a moment he peered upon me, contemplating matters I could not begin to guess, before he said, (_That is acceptable; the rest of your day, after all, is free of any obligations. Afterwards however, we shall discuss what exactly transpired last night. Until then, you may savor your activities here, Priestess Arei._)

Panic jolted through me as my mind stumbled over possibilities. "But-!"

Again, my seraph's eyes narrowed, even as he prompted me to speak my thoughts. Summoning up my courage, I stated, "I believe it would be…beneficial…for me to continue visiting this place. I do not believe I am a bother to anyone here, and I would like to be able to retre-," I corrected my wording, "-_Come_ here in the future in case I need to…vent."

Once more he grew contemplative, before his fierce gaze pinned Marie to the floor as he inquired, (_Will you vouch for the High Priestess in this affair, Handmaiden?_)

I gave the woman a pleading look…and slowly, after regarding the god and I for several long seconds, she nodded her consent. "We would be honored to have her join us, my Lord."

Knowing it would be inappropriate of me, I did not dart to her, embrace her, and shout my gratefulness and glee to her…but I think she knew of my joy, despite my silence.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

Ignoring my High Priestess's obvious delight, I questioned the rest of the potters privately if they too gave their approval, and saw them nod minutely that they has no qualms with the matter. Perhaps they were simply following Marie's example, or perhaps their paranoia had been put at ease with the way in which I was handling Arei at this moment: as a troublesome child, not as a useful spy I was integrating into their group. It would not be the first time I had used such a technique, especially in the ranks of women: for their gossip always carried useful kernels of truth and their insightfulness gave a fuller, if convoluted, picture of the inner dynamics of the Temple than the straightforward men could hope to see. Yet they were relaxing their guard now, instead allowing their mostly maternal and sisterly fondness for the teenager to weave around her like a warm, protective blanket. While I was not entirely comfortable with this new arrangement, their defensive response eased my worries on how this plan could backfire, for at the very least, if danger attempted to strike the girl here, it would need to bore through the bodies of these women first before molesting the child. Furthermore, the reasons my High Priestess had given were valid enough: this place _could_ prove of use to her, though perhaps not in the way she currently envisioned….

And so I nodded and growled my approval, (_Very well; but there will be conditions to this arrangement, Arei. First, you will not make your visits here into a routine, for routine is what your enemies will prey on and use for their own gains. Second, as this will be your personal pursuit, one which I will have nothing to do with, I insist that Marie be here with you to ensure your safety. If she is _not_ present when you arrive, you _will_ return to your quarters, _whether you like it or not_. Third, if you are ever injured in this endeavor beyond a simple scrape or cut, you will be barred from this room. Finally, you will be immaculate when you return to our floor and society in general. Do you understand me, Priestess?_)

The hallowed seventeen-year-old gave me a energetic, giddy nod, and as my eyes swept the contents of the room I remarked dryly, (_At the very least, you are not the first of your ilk who have taken to this particular art; one of you predecessors, during her time here, created a glaze she named Dragon's Blood. Knowing your tastes, I believe you would find its rich hue…appealing.)_

Watching her eyes widen in surprise, my gaze followed the subtle shifts in the contours of her expression, and came to rest on her right cheekbone…as I turned away from her, my voice rose in a low rumble, _(And Arei? Wipe that smudge from your face._)

My young charge made a quick motion to wipe her cheek clean, and to my mild amusement the motion only made her more of a mess - her hands, after all, were encased in slurry, the muddy residue of clay. Her responding dismay merely made me chuckle as I departed from her presence…. However, my mood soon sobered as I returned to my wanderings through the dimly lit halls of the Temple, the sunlight casting an occasional glint of white fire upon my pelt and an orange spark within my eyes. I could see her within my mind, that girl, my High Priestess, standing before me, screwing up her bravery as she tried to and was triumphant in getting her way in establishing a sanctuary from me. She was beginning to grow strong and bold, back into the woman she had once been, so very proud and so in need of being crushed and reshaped…. How long would it take her to try to regain her independence…?

And what would I do when that time came?

* * *

**AREI:**

Oh, gods, my face _burned! _How did he _always_ know precisely where to prod me to make me blush in embarrassment? Going over swiftly to the water trough, I cleansed my quaking hands and cooled my hot face. When I emerged from the spray, he was gone. Yet in a way he yet lingered beneath my skin and memory, and his name was spoken all around me as the potter's conversation dwelled on his presence. Many of the women around me had only viewed him on formal occasions, after all, so his descent here was not a topic easily dismissed. Perhaps they regarded his company in such reverence because he was the idol of their worship…but to me, he was an awe-inspiring yet mortal creature of flesh and blood. Because of this difference in viewpoint, I did not speak out, instead choosing to continue improving my bowl. However, my focus had been shattered by his visitation, which seemed alien to me considering I was usually perfectly comfortable in his presence. Still, there was yesterday to keep in consideration…and perhaps it was the reminder he had given of that incidence, and the inevitable confrontation ahead, which now fractured my calm.

As subjects of the surrounding conversation shifted beyond my limited comprehension, I caught mentions of the Spirit's Eve Festival. My curiosity perked, and looking to distract myself from my dread, I said, "I've heard mention of that night before - Marie, tell me, what does it entail?"

She blinked at me, drawing back a little. "You mean for you…?" She asked, with an odd note caught in her voice.

I had meant in general, actually, but I nodded nonetheless – what role I must play would be good for me to know as well. However, my head Handmaiden's reaction was…unexpected. She blushed deeply and coughed out, "I'm, ah, not entirely certain that is something you need to worry about, High Priestess…as young as you are…."

A blonde woman seated at a wheel near us rolled her bronze eyes and muttered, "If she wants to know, tell her – it's not like she wasn't listening earlier when you yapped about skinny dipping with Marcus. Besides, I would think it best if she knows what part she plays beforehand."

By this point, I was beginning to regret asking in the first place, even as my curiosity was bolstered to new heights. Marie, spying my questioning expression, merely sighed, "I suppose so," and then addressing me, she explained slowly, "Priestess Arei, Spirit's Eve is a festival we hold on the night of the summer solstice. We use it to advocate various forms of passion, most prominently the sensual types such as…er, carnal love. It is the only time in the year when affairs are not only allowed but encouraged. There are various purposes behind this, but suffice to say it is an evening filled with desire and indulgences. Even those who are usually considered too holy to be sullied by lustful entertainments are allowed to savor another's warmth."

She shook her head before her gaze rose to meet mine. "This, of course, includes you and the God, High Priestess."

My mind, which had previously been pondering upon the implications of her words, abruptly shorted out.

Now, I was aware of the basics in the act between two creatures of the opposite sex which would create offspring. However, my understanding of the matter was purely based upon a biological standpoint, mingled with a few rumors I had heard. Yet to me, the foreign activity was a scientific equation that equaled out to bringing new life into existence. Yes, I had been told it was immensely enjoyable, even nearly unbearably so, and that the pursuit of it ran the decisions of some people, their motives in their actions having little to do with conceiving heirs for their bloodline. However, the subject itself had thus far seemed one removed from me, one I would never need touch or participate in. As of such, the concept of me exploring the act with another being, or of _him_ touching another person in that way, made me tremble inside with dismay. I explained as much of my opinion on this matter as I could to Marie, leaving out the bit about how the idea of Abaddon being with a strange woman horrified me. In response, she seemed more than a little alarmed.

"Lady Arei-! My gods, how much have you read of The Book of Rebirth?"

I admitted that I had not read much of the second or thirds parts, and had mainly focused my time upon analyzing the first.

"So you've read the myths then…. Well, High Priestess, the next time you have the opportunity, please look towards the end of the second testament. I will give you the footnotes, but you _need_ to read the entire thing, dear," Marie said as she glanced down to her pot, her fingertips working to make the rim pronounced. After a moment, she elaborated, telling me, "As you are aware, your position as our empress gives you certain honors no one else may possess. However, for these gifts there are certain…prices…that you must pay. According to the passages which describe your duties as a High Priestess, it states that if God Abaddon wants blood, he shall take it from you…and if he wants rapture, he will also go to you for his pleasure."

She met my widening eyes, and declared softly, "You are a vessel, Priestess Arei…though if you are merely for him, or for _something of his_, is a matter the Priests debate fiercely."

…From that, I took out one key message: my God, for all he granted me, owned my being – my soul and my body - and as the one who possessed me, he could do whatever he wished with me. He could cradle me from harm or be the one who abused me, and no one would step in, no one would try to shelter me from him, because I was _his_ object to do with whatever he saw fit. On Spirit's Eve, on the night when rapturous vice would be allowed, it meant he could come inside of me whether I yearned for him to or not. Vaguely I tried to imagine it; I tried to imagine him within my bed, his fur against my skin, his paws against my form, his breath against my neck, his…but my mind soon froze, unable to complete the moist, heated dream. I bit my lip, having difficulty inhaling, but still had to ask if my suspicions were correct. "Are you saying that when the summer solstice comes, he and I will…?"

Her head snapped up. "What?" She blanched and shook her head, hurried correctly me, "Oh no, Priestess Arei! Yes, he _could_ take you if he wished, but God Abaddon has never chosen to take advantage of that particular opportunity before."

And for one moment, my anxiety began to dissolve….

Then a voice hissed out, "Do not lie to her, Marie - he has-!"

My Handmaiden glared in the direction of the comment. "That was a one-time deal," she hissed back, "and he supposedly did not care for the experience any-!"

"What are you talking about?" I interrupted, and spying their hesitance murmured, "Please tell me."

When they still refused to speak, I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. They had no choice but to _answer_ my question, even if they did not wish to do so, after all. Although I rarely chose to draw attention to my status, I _was_ their superior, and they the ones required by law to serve my will and inform me of matters I would do well to know. Still, even though this truth was ingrained within their teachings, none spoke the first word of explanation – and their silence only made me warier of the briar of a topic I had just stumbled upon. Were they worried the thorns would make me bleed, would poison me? The quiet stretched on, far too long, the women reluctant to speak, before a masculine voice rose from the entrance of the pottery room, one I knew almost as well as Abaddon's:

"They are speaking about the late Christina Alexandrite, High Priestess."

With Byron's words, my haven seemed to darken and grow stiller than when an enraged god of death had stepped into its embrace – for in his presence the air had become charged with negative, icy power. Yet now the energy of the world seemed to be leeched away with the uttering of the name. Alarmed by the change I glanced around at the others, but none would raise their eyes to meet mine, and so I gazed instead upon Byron, wordlessly beseeching him for answers. My dear Attendant, his arrival of which had gone unnoticed until this point, had distant, dull eyes, and held himself far too wearily for someone of his playful spirit. Apprehension warned me to let the matter rest, but as always, my lively curiosity won out over my reason. The desire for knowledge was too strong, and so I asked him who the woman had been.

Ultimately, this would be the first time, but not the last, that I would find one of the archaic sayings of my race so apt:

There is sweet bliss in ignorance.

* * *

**A.N.: **Well, dear readers, review if you would be so kind. Our next stop in this train ride: the origins of the Silent War, part one (since it just has to be so much more complicated than just having one little, bloody cause, right?). At any rate, I hope you all have a good weekend!

Sincerely,

WiseAbsol


	9. Idol

**Disclaimer: I do not own pokemon or Arei. Enough said.**

**Author's Note: **Um...yeah, it's been awhile. Hopefully the content of this chapter will make up for the horrendous delay - I really am very sorry for how long this took! I have, as usual, been incredibly busy...still am, actually, but I figured I had time enough to update this story. Hopefully, this chapter will give you a little insight into the political situation right now...and, I hope, intrigue you as well. I hope you all enjoy it.

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- E N T R Y VIII. -

_**Date – May 5th–8th, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.: **_

_As people grow in both body and soul, the maturing beings adopting the characteristics of adults, they have those they look up to for guidance on how to live their lives. The individuals they choose to admire are typically one's older relatives or close family friends during childhood; these are the ones someone can physically touch: parents, older siblings, guardians. However, upon reaching adolescence, people begin to set their eyes upon people in the distance, people separated from them by time and space. They wonder and aspire to be like these beings, wishing to mimic their appearances, their ideologies, their good fortunes. They yearn for the glory provided to these seemingly blessed individuals, yearn for the immortality they may gain from their deeds and fame. And in the darkest reaches of their souls, they would willingly shed their own identities to acquire what these people possess, if only for a day. No one in the history of humanity has escaped this form of covetousness…._

_Not even those who supposedly have everything._

* * *

**AREI:**

According to all of the myths that I had read in The Book of Rebirth, the world before Abaddon's cleansing storm had been one sullied with corruption and bloodshed. Human civilization had grown and flourished to the point of decadence, of indulgences, nurturing sin at every level of society, which festered like gangrene under the pristine tourniquets the ruling leaders had used to cover up the decay in their nations. It had been a world of staggering contrasts: even as the elite had toasted to their success in walking up the staircase to godhood, having discovered the intricacies to the very particles of life and matter, thousands of civilians in poorer countries died each day from curable hunger and disease. Even as the denizens of the crystal cities danced, made love, and were merry, thousands more were beaten, raped, psychologically abused, and murdered for no justifiable reason each day. Even as the children of the wealthy dreamed of clear, blue skies and seas, thousands of others struggled against enslavement and oppression from birth, unable to bear the light of hope in their crushed souls. It was a world of paradoxes, and a world which only seemed to battle the infections sickening it once the fever began to take hold. Only once great disaster and violence shattered the rich men's idyllic lives did the world seek retaliation. Only once one "important" life was snuffed out did the whole of humanity grieve.

I suppose that even after Abaddon's wrath had cleansed the world, society yet acted the same. People were more cautious, perhaps - but the murder of an individual in power, not the countless soldiers dying in the desert sands, still had the ability to alter the world. This fact had been proven nearly two decades before the moment I asked who the High Priestess Christina Alexandrite was…because her death marked the true beginning of the Silent War which shaped my life.

In that moment of inquiry, my gaze stilled on Byron, who leaned his lithe body against the cool, stone doorway, the hems of his robes kissing the frame. The brows over his hazel eyes, which were dull with recollection, were knitted with agitation as he contemplated an answer for me. His jaw was also slightly clenched, as if with displeasure that I was asking about this predecessor of mine, and he crossed his arms before glancing at Marie. With an exasperated sigh, he stepped within the pottery room and faced me fully. His reply came soon after. "She was the priestess appointed just before the turn of the new century, about seventeen years ago. In the history of our Order, she is one of its most memorable figures."

Intrigued, I leaned forward, hungry to learn more – now that he had captured my interest, I doubted my mind would be deterred from the pursuit of the knowledge which now was dangled before me like some tempting morsel. Byron, understanding what the expression on my face meant, merely nodded to Marie, indicated that she should tell me the story behind this "Alexandrite." After all, she had already explained Spirit's Eve to me well enough. Yet now instead of some disturbing culture point, she provided a lesson in mingled history and myth. She sat back, and without meeting my eyes, began to explain the matter to me in a quiet voice. "Christina…she was eight years your senior when she took up the post of High Priestess. From what I can remember about her firsthand, she was…regal in her appearance, possessing a tall, proud figure crowned in curling, blond hair, and she seemed to radiate her magnanimous and courteous personality through this form. She was a woman who could make her bitter enemies reconsider their animosity towards her and their arguments against her. In fact, from what I heard, some of them even found themselves reluctantly agreeing with her logic. And as for the people who followed her, they regarded her as something of a maternal leader, as she was gentle and kind to her inferiors when she ruled. To benefit the common people, she urged Abaddon and the Priests to pass several laws, which, surprisingly, they did. In short, she was the _ideal_ holy empress. She captured the hearts of all those she befriended…and even, to some extent, that of our God's as well."

…_What? _

Not noticing the uncertain look that flickered on my face, my Handmaiden continued her narrative. "Now, by the time Christina was chosen, our Lord Abaddon had ruled this land for over half a century, and had watched over and observed the men and women who inhabited it for even longer. He had created a map of humanity's collective psyche, having explored as many areas of the human condition as he could with his keen empathic abilities. Yet for all of his _comprehension _of the technical facets of the mind, he had a limited and detached _understanding_ of the two powers which drove humans to commit great acts of good and evil: the sensations of lust and love. Supposedly, he grew rather curious of both phenomena, and soon attempted to reach understanding through analyzing the memories of others, essentially _feeling_ through them. Yet this, of course, was not the same as him living the experience himself."

"Of course, this merely leant strength to the argument the Council of Priests had been presenting for years: they had long urged him to take a lover, be it beast or human, for the sake of producing an heir, and in the past, he had flatly refused both possibilities. At the very least, the Goddess Mew, who many had believed to be his ideal match, since she is his spiritual and physical complement, was a being he denied utterly, and so that path was barred. Eventually, the suggestion was made for a High Priestess to offer herself to God Abaddon in the intimate manner, and perhaps though her body, pure and worthy of possession by the divine, the child the Priests wanted would be conceived. After all, they knew well that while God Abaddon was powerful and enduring, he is as mortal as all other creatures in this world. He can sicken or be injured lethally, and so to prevent the foundation of the empire from collapsing, they desired for him to procure a son who would lead if his reign ended prematurely."

Finally, she lifted her eyes from the floor to me, and gave me a droll look as she stated, "Obviously, these attempts have never succeeded, as our God has no offspring to speak of."

Yet…there was more to this, wasn't there? Did I _truly_ wish to hear where this was going…?

The answer came to me immediately: no.

However…I needed to understand. I _wanted_ to understand….

"However, to my original point: as time passed, God Abaddon grew more and more intrigued on the concepts of physical and emotional love. Eventually, that interest came to its peak, and in the days before Spirit's Eve, he asked the Lady Alexandrite if she would be willing to join him during the night of the festival. That part has always intrigued me personally, for it indicates something about our seraph's character that had previously not been known: that he is not purely a creature of force. He could have taken her regardless of her willingness, for that was within his rights, yet he gave her a choice instead. I have heard people argue that he did this simply in the hope of obtaining her consent, as he knew how unpleasant her unwillingness might be. Yet I am not so certain if his reasoning was that clear-cut. No matter what the reason was though, she agreed to his proposal – and while there are speculations as to what her own motives were, we can only be certain that she committed the act to express something to the God…but what that was, only her partner knows."

She began to resume shaping the clay before her as she continued, "Perhaps fortunately, the exact details of that night are not known, since the walls of the holy chambers possess no spy-holes to peer through. However, Christina's Handmaidens did find blood on her sheets the next morning, and the woman herself limped slightly for a short time during the following day. Both were proof enough for the people that the union had been made, and evidence enough that neither participant was a virgin any longer. Yet afterwards, God Abaddon…he _changed_. Maybe it was because he had caused his priestess pain during that twilight, but he never asked her for any service to him again. As well…he treated her with a form of respect he seemed only to reserve for the gods who rivaled his power – an unprecedented gift for him to bestow upon any mortal."

I felt…sick as I absorbed what she had said, as if a frozen emetic was sliding down into my stomach. Again, Marie did not notice my discomfort…or perhaps did not heed it. Yet the comments she casually added to the narrative helped to lessen the ache in my middle: "While I do believe they cared for one another, or at least him to her, I do not think there was love between them…more like a mutual understanding or detached intimacy that is present between distant friends. And in the end, that was really all the experiment amounted to: Christina did not become pregnant, and least not to our knowledge."

And the urge to regurgitate dissipated fully….

Yet it seemed I was a foolhardy masochist. When she trailed off, my voice rose to ask softly, "Is there more?"

Of course there was – the Handmaidens eyes grew flinty, her fingers stiffening against the sides of her spinning bowl. "Yes, there is - but it isn't pleasant. Are you certain you want to know?"

Having never denied offered knowledge previously, I nodded my affirmation, though a small voice in my head warned me to cease this discussion immediately. For some reason, it sounded strangely like the God's…. Marie merely sighed. "Alright…but the next part is political fact, not rumor, so you would do well not to dismiss it, my Lady."

Finding that she had my complete attention, she continued her tale. "Now, one of the most important things to keep in mind is that the High Priestess Alexandrite made a point to leave the capital several times a year – a practice which, while allowed at the time, was not encouraged. Regardless of the God's disapproval, she took these trips and took note of the people's needs during them, often creating new doctrines to ease the struggles in their lives. On one such journey, she had spent months traveling throughout the cities, arguing for the adoption of an imperial schooling system for children of all Class levels, whether penniless or noble. For many, this concept was one of hope, for it offered all generations following its acceptance the chance to advance themselves beyond the status they were born into. Not that it wasn't fought by the prejudiced, but on the day of her return, it was nearly a certainty for the future…."

She paused. "…Now please understand, Priestess Arei, without the seraph beside her, the Lady Christina was vulnerable. Though she knew she was taking great risks to help the people, she faced the dangers regardless. As far as she was concerned, she did not believe any of the public would be the ones to harm her, nor were the Rebels, she believed, much of a threat to her at that point. There were, of course, rumors circulating that the heretics had infiltrated the capital, but no one truly believed this was a valid occurrence. To that point, the outcasts had solely used guerilla warfare to strike at the edges of our borders…never before had they managed to slip so far inside our lands, so it was thought that the capital was safe from their attacks."

"This belief…was completely incorrect. As the ceremony that celebrated the Lady Alexandrite's came to its zenith around noon, a group of heretics gathered on the roof of a nearby building and started firing volleys into the ranks of the militia that were gathered around the High Priestess. These rounds were hollow, and so while they inflicted damage, they did not kill – but they did fracture the guard around Christina, leaving her open to far more deadly fire. Before her forces could respond, the High Priestess Christina Alexandria was assassinated in front of hundreds of the citizens who cherished her, her execution being of a single shot to the head. She died instantly. Afterwards, the capital was ablaze with riots for a fortnight - it took all the militia's power to quell the people's rage and apprehend the monsters that had murdered the empress. The group was, after a private interrogation, executed by our God himself in the courtyard before the Temple, for the entire world to witness. Once justice had been meted out, the mourning period for Alexandrite lasted for nearly a month – even the Priests grieved, and with her death heavy in their minds, demanded that action be taken against the Rebels. The God Abaddon had done his sacred task already, having appointed a new priestess in the twilight following Christina's demise…but he refused to address the Council for several weeks afterwards."

"When he did, he gave the militia a new agenda: in retaliation against the actions of the heretical forces, God Abaddon authorized the annual eradication of Rebel forces in his empire, which became known as the Cleansings. This crusade is waged for the sole purpose of wiping out the rebellion and their raiding parties, which threaten our people and our way of life. Christina's death, in short, was the catalyst that began the struggle between the Heretics and the Parthenon. To this day the battling continues, and no other empire fights the war as fiercely as we – for we were the ones who lost something we could not hope to replace: our greatest empress, who inspired us and softened the heart of even the Shadow God. She wished only to help her people…but regardless of that, the Rebels executed her, simply because of what she stood for in their eyes."

The eyes that met mine then were frighteningly cold – too cold for sweet Marie. Yet stricken by a tragedy from so long ago, her voice matched her gaze as she murmured, "Most of us were only children when she died - but we remember well how our friends and family cried, and the opportunities we were deprived of when she perished." She then glanced up and down my form, and concluded, "…You must have been an infant when we lost her."

On that note, the discussion ended.

However…later I would wonder what Marie had expected me to say in response. Did she believe I was capable of uttering out a word when faced with the origins of war? I had no words I could voice that could sum up my feelings, my thoughts, all of which were indistinct and dark. And so my lips did not part to comment upon what I had heard…and I suppose they all believed I was contemplating what they had lost, and what perhaps I might return to them in my reign. Yet…all that time, I was thinking on someone else – someone whose losses harmed me, for I was an extension of him. Abaddon…he had been unable to speak after the woman's death. Had he wept for her instead, after what he had shared with her? A part of my yearned to believe so; yearned to consider that his heart was capable of the immense grief that would force the body to cry from the pain of the soul. Yet somehow…I doubted it. I doubted he had shed tears over his one-time lover….

And that made my insides turn to lead….

When I lifted my head next, I saw that the Attendant Byron had departed, and that the potters around me had grown somber with reminiscent thoughts. Eventually, Marie could not continue to work successfully in such a listless environment, and likely did not consider it a beneficial one for me to be submerged within. She announced in a false, cheery voice, that we were going to the beach, and that was that. Lost in my own contemplations, I only felt a gentle thrill of excitement at this prospect, yet as we wandered out of the Temple and farther and farther from the courtyards, my anticipation began to gather and churn in my stomach. I had never gone so far from my home before, and beyond my nervousness, I felt giddy at this break from the norm. Carrying gaping, wooden buckets and spades with us, we trekked past the gardens to the plateau's edge, where a wide staircase had been cut into its side. The rocky path, its flat, red stairs swept with salt and strong wind off the sea – smelling potently of seaweed and fish - descended to the sandy shores on the outskirts of the city. Far below us, townspeople waded in the shallows, like water-gliding insects. They prayed and made small offerings in the turquoise waters, thanking the waves for providing them with the gifts of sea-salt, seafood, and beautiful shells with which to make simple jewelry. Some of these sun-browned individuals waved to us, and dozens of children played in the pale sands, picking through the dunes for little treasures forfeited by the tides: smoothed out bits of colored glass and stones, items lost over the sides of trading ships, and occasionally, rare pearls from the denizens of the sea. We walked past them into the rockier waters, searching the shore for veins of clay between the stones and silt of the delta. Once we discovered a decent thread, we hitched up our robes and began to dig, filling the buckets we'd brought full of the essential pottery ingredient. At one point, my fingernails dripping with gray sludge and the cool waves lapping about my knees, I looked out over the water….

It was…quite peaceful, out here, far from the business and authority of the Temple. Just gazing out to where the sea met and blended with the sky, in a thin line that of cobalt, soothed my heart. Before it was a small boat among the waves, a wind-glider, and I wondered to myself what it must be like to surf free across the surface of the water – surely, it must thrill the spirit? Slowly, my thoughts returned to the seraph of shadow. Did he ever feel this type of quiet contentment when he looked out over the water? Again, like the concept of him shedding tears, somehow I did not think he did, and that saddened me, the thought that his heart could not be touched.

When we finally returned to the Temple, I was soaked through, shivering, and utterly exhausted. Over the course of that day, I had somehow managed to forget the very reason I had fled into the company of the women potters – but after I had purified my body of the muck clinging to me, and again stood before my God, the memory returned in full force. I attempted to explain my motives to him, but all that came out was: "The Commander reminded me of someone in my nightmares…and I lost control over myself. I am sorry, my lord, I-."

Abaddon cut me off before I could formulate a feeble excuse. (_Do not blather, Arei - it does not suit you. As long as there is no repeat of this incident, I will overlook your actions…making a mistake, after all, is perfectly human of you,) _he stated, and turned away from me. _(Yet you would do well not to allow your dreams to color your decisions in the future. They are figments, nothing more, and if I must, I will erase them from your mind if they insight further problems. However, as I would rather not tamper with your mind, I would appreciate if you practice stricter self-control, is that understood?)_

I nodded, and at that, he began to walk towards the exit of my chambers. As his final comment bounced in my mind, I wondered about his actions with Christina, and for a reason that eluded me, I nearly asked him about her. Yet my uncertainty at how he would react stopped me. Would he be upset with me for mentioning her, and keep me from visiting my newfound friends? Fearing that, and having been scolded as I had been, my bravery fled me. I swallowed my inquiry, telling myself that I would ask him about her some other time…but looking after him, a new question rose within me: what I would become? Would I be as memorable and great a priestess as she had been? Would he come to care for and respect me as he had with her? In that moment, I felt like a scared, doubting child: for surely I would die young and fade into obscurity like so many priestesses before me, nameless and unnoted. No matter how much I wanted my life to mean something…no matter if I only wanted to be remembered by one person - by him to some fragile extent - perhaps my failure in that notion was inevitable. But still, I held onto the desire for my fate to be otherwise, for my dream of being remembered by the one I was closest to be fulfilled. I understood, certainly, that it would be my sole task to ensure my success, and that my goal might never be reached….

Still…I wanted to try….

Not to fade away.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

…I should have barred her from accompanying those women: not only had they filled her mind with matters that had depressed her, but they had also exposed her to disease. Over the last few months since her removal from society, her immune system had weakened in the controlled environment she had been subjected to. Now, after her encountered with the ill, and her wandering about in the cool air in drenched robes, she had caught the one illness none of her kind seemed to escape: acute viral rhinopharyngitis - otherwise known as a cold. She sniffled and coughed pitifully, and ran a low fever within two days of her venture to the sea. The Imperial Physician, Doctor Zered, suggested that I provide her with what I already knew she needed: uninterrupted sleep, fluids, and nutrients-rich, soft foods. To some extent, it pleased me that his diagnosis procedure frightened her: that was punishment enough for her wandering away, if one discounted the virus. However, I could not leave her in the Private Treatment Ward, no matter the temptation to do so. Her views of me would only degrade if I abandoned her in this unfamiliar place while she was in such a miserable condition. And for the services a priestess provided me with freely, caring for her when she was sick was the least I could do in return. After all, _I _could not catch the human disease.

Casting a glance at the doctor and the Attendant, I lifted the sleeping girl into my arms and stated, (_I will tend to her in my quarters. Attendant, I would appreciate it if you would send for some soup in an hour or so – she will need to eat when she awakens._)

As always, my orders were obeyed, and some hours later, a few used dishes lay in the tray upon my bedside table. Arei herself, properly fed and watered, lay in a fabric cocoon made from the blankets of my bed, her shivering subsiding as she rested in warmth. The wide chamber was lit only by the dull glow of candles, which diffused the aroma of peppermint through the room. From the bowl of cool water beside my chair, I drew out and wrung a soaked washrag, and lay it against her forehead, occasionally dabbing at her flushed face and neck. For the most part, I spent my vigil watching for any signs of declining health. I need not have bothered - while her sleep proved fitful, the cold was nowhere near enough to overcome her system, as fragile as it was.

Regardless, as the moon reached its zenith, her condition became the lesser of my concerns. As had been arranged months prior to this night, Mew had arrived, just as she had declared she would.

I met her on the pinnacle of the Temple as the midnight bells began to bellow out their pure tones in the capital below, and sensed her presence well before I spotted her floating out of my peripheral vision. We were of the same elements and abilities, which swelled and waned at an identical frequency…but we were at opposite sides of the spectrum, contrasting one another. She was who brought life, light, and joy to where she soared, while I was a creature who spread death, darkness, and sorrow where I tread. She was a female of nature's creation, while I was a male of artificial conception. In so many ways we were opposites, and so only capable of cancelling one another out of existence if we were made into a single entity…for it was only in the deepest, most intimate of level of genetics that we were similar. We shared the blood that pumped through our hearts, that ran through our veins…but that was all we shared, and all that bound us together - nothing more; not anymore.

Whereas a hundred years ago this ancient creature might have attempted to befriend me and guide me, she now possessed no such goodwill. Her hatred for me blazed like a black, wicked flame from her aura, which might have seared me had I not been indifferent to its heat. Once, she had been full of laughter and playfulness – but now her little body brimmed with displeasure at the sight of me, and loathing at the obligations she must now obey. Her seemingly endless youth was at an end; the Apocalypse had left her permanently crooked and embittered. A husk of her former self, she now regarded the world with utter scorn, her attitude being haunty at best, and upon me she laid the blame. In her eyes, I had been responsible for the _genocide_ of countless innocents at the turn of the millennium…and she was fully right to place crime at my feet. Yet she might have found forgiveness within herself had I shown any hint of remorse or discontent with the world I had created…but as I did not, she was driven mad with frustration.

For decades, her goals had been obvious to me: she wanted life to return to how it had been before the Storms. She had even adopted the previous senses of willpower, determination, and cunning that I had left behind once my youthful desires had been fulfilled. Yet her manipulations, her mission if general, was futile – and she knew it. Now that the Time Wanderer was dead, there could be no going back to erase the mistake she had made in allowing me to be created from the remnants of her ancestors. With a smirk, I remembered the execution of her last hope: I had travelled to the torii, the sacred shrine of his forest, and had called him into my time with the flute created with the sole purpose of summoning him. Then, after he had appeared in a flash of vermillion light, I had ensnared him in my telekinetic grasp and broke his neck in a swift, hard squeeze, killing him instantly and painlessly. The Celebi would no longer be able to intervene in my plan - Mew would be incapable of fleeing to her lover and persuading him to allow her to flee backwards in time to destroy me before I became a threat. And as I had theorized, his death had broken the chain the marked his passages through time. Once the Celebi of the present had died, his future incarnations ceased to exist, and the past ones could not cross the time-stream past the point of his demise. He was not one of many Celebi – he was singular and merely created paradoxes to allow him to appear as if from a greater collective. By removing one link of the chain, the rest had begun to break apart and unwind – the loops had been closed permanently. There would be no going back – and so there would be no second chance for her to stop me, to kill me, as she so desired.

Still, I doubted that Mew would forfeit her crusade – after all, we had an eternity for the circumstances between us to develop into situations which she could use to her advantage. Yet it would not be now, little Mew - your chance would not be now.

After the last toll of the bells fell silent, the deity spoke, her azure eyes sweeping over the city that had been built for the sake of worshipping us. "_How long do you think this will last, Mewtwo? Surely you realize that the humans will not stand for their enslavement forever."_

The corner of my mouth tucked upwards in an amused smirk at that. "Enslavement," did she say? (_Whatever do you mean, Mew? I have placed no chains and shacked about their limbs or minds – they did that task themselves. It truly mystifies me that you continue, even after all of these decades, to argue this point with me, when you would have by far better luck trying to persuade the other Legendaries to your way of thought.)_

She said nothing, but the burn of her anger rose to scorching temperatures. I laughed as she tried to sear me with its heat, and said, (_Ah, that is right: the Parthenon is enjoying the new world the humans have conjured! And tell me, little Mew, are they wrong to savor the freedom and respect they are now given after millennia upon millennia of fearing and hiding from humanity? Is it wrong of them to breathe a sigh of relief now that the once-dominant species of this planet is no longer upon the path of a self-annihilation, the destruction of which would have charred the Earth black had their kind been allowed to run rampant? Does the Parthenon not also view this world as a better place not that they are restrained, as I do?_)

Her sheer blue, haunted eyes narrowed. "_Is that what you honestly believe? This world is a mistake, clone! It is nothing more than a lie, a delusion that the humans have fallen victim to, and one which you take every advantage of without a shred of guilt. By Arceus, what kind of monster are you?"_

Her fury struck me as humorous – the hissing of a kitten, after all, is never threatening, but a source of immense comedy to the ones watching it yowl so pathetically. (_No matter how I respond to that, you have already established your own ideas on the type of being I am, so there is little need for me to elaborate on my perceived self-image._)

It was as if an agitated viper hung near my ear. _"Do you think you have changed so much?"_

I repressed a chuckle, and merely replied, (_This depends on the subject matter_.)

My "cheeky" tone succeeded in getting under her pelt - she began spouting insults at me in a venomous, breathy rush: "_You are a devil, you sick, bastard son of Man! You're a wicked child baptized in the blood of those who crave their independence, who crave the knowledge of their true heritage, who crave to help their loved ones find liberation! You are nothing more than a genocidal abomination who should have died with the rest of your kind, well before you even lost your embryonic gills-!"_

Boredom crept in – I had heard this speech before, though I would admit, it was become rather creative after ninety years. (_Will you finish your rant swiftly?) _I requested, and mentioned offhand the reason why my time to listen to her spiel was shorter than usual: (_I have a priestess to care for._)

This time, her cold, wry laughed arose into the night air in response to me comment. It sounded like a dying animal wailing out a final, tortured breath. "_A Priestess, eh? - tell me, what number is this one? What is the current death toll of the women you have chosen to kiss your rank paws? After thirty-four years, how many females have perished after you picked them out of the crowd, because they bore a sense of empathy that you lacked?"_

For the first time in this discussion, I experience a moment of displeasure, and bore no desire to answer her…but answer her I did. (_Arei Dovasary is the twenty-seventh. But what does it matter, Mew? All creatures born into this world must eventually die_.)

"_That is true,_" she admitted, smiling wickedly. "_Yet you set those girls up to die before they can savor a life with a mate and have a family to treasure. You deprive them of their previous lives and sentence them to death in the moment you choose them as yours. You do realize, of course, that at the worst, the rest of us Legendaries are on our sixth priestesses? You know that, don't you? So tell me, I find myself curious: just how much blood do you plan to drench yourself in before you perish as well?"_

And then her laughter arose again, this time shrill in her dark glee. "_Oh wait, I forgot! Blood does not matter to you! All you care about is control and your personal pleasures. Which reminds me: when the summer equinox arrives, do you plan to _rape_the little girl in your chambers as you did with the blonde woman? Considering this Arei's sketchy background, her exotic coloring, and her docile personality, I can see you taking advantage of the drugs those manipulative Handmaidens put her on and ramming yourself inside her until she-!"_

(-_ENOUGH! BE SILENT, YOU WRETCHED HAG OF A FEMALE!_)

Black fury erupted from me with frightening force – had she been a frailer individual, she might have been thrown several yards away as my telekinesis lashed out, having broken from my control as anger overtook me. Long before this unwelcome night, long before Mew's suggestions had slid through her lips, I had made a vow to myself to never again touch a human in the most intimate of ways…especially not the child under my care. For that, despite her gruesome origins, was what Arei now was in soul: a child...and I would not defile an innocent. Kill her, perhaps…but never defile.

After I regained my composure, I asked, (_Do you plan to be civil at some point, Mew? Or are you here merely to aggravate me_?)

She sniffed with a turned up muzzle, a snobbish sign of disdain. "_I merely came to tell you that I grow weary of you sending your hunting parties into my territory to get purge it of the so-called 'Rebels.' I do not want your filthy soldiers entering my lands anymore; do I make that perfectly clear?"_

I snorted into the cool, night breeze. (_Crystal clear, little Mew - for you hypocritical comfort, I will convey your displeasure at their searches.)_

She ignored my blasé tone. "_Good," _she chirped, and began to drift away with an air of dismissal. _"Now go on, return to your new priestess and cure her of the irking diseases that has taken hold on her. Though, I am not sure why you even bother…."_

"_After all, she will be dead within two years, won't she?"_

With those final words, the ancient feline vanished, leaving behind a few stray, white sparks which soon went out. What concern I felt over her malice soon ebbed away, for her threats lacked bite behind them, for her powers, I knew well, had long since dwindled away. Indeed, as weakened as she was, she merely held a passive-aggressive stance against the world, dismaying in but not actively fighting the system now set in play. She was a breathing contradiction, Mew, and bitter to the core – but she could raise no fist against my empire or my person. All the strength she had left was exerted entirely upon the act of enduring…there was little more she could do.

After all, she could not coax humankind into taking from it eyes the blindfold it had woven for itself. Even if she someday made the humans realize that their gazes were being covered, how likely was it that they would chose to regain their sight, and in doing so return to a world without innocence? Having departed from Purity once before, had they not - until I had returned them to it - regretted their actions ever since…?

…I should have realized then, that regardless of promised remorse, their kind might be insane enough to do the unthinkable. But in that quiet night, I merely returned inside to aid Arei in taking a drink of revitalizing broth…I had already brushed the kitten's from my mind like dust….

* * *

_As powerful a psychic as he was, the clone had never possessed the gift of foresight. Over a century ago, he had proven how inept he was in the sublime art, for he had not once contemplated the true consequences of his actions, having instead blinded himself with his appetite for vengeance and his idealistic visions of a world without humanity and their "slaves." Similarly, Mew thought, he was blinded now, for he did not concern himself over the possibility that there could be creatures mighty enough to tear him from his Temple and decimate his carefully constructed world. His unwavering faith in himself, she knew, would be his undoing._

Especially_if he blinded himself twice-over with not only his arrogant mind, but with his vernal heart as well, if such a thing truly existed...and Mew was beginning to suspect it did indeed beat in his chest. It was soft and fragile, yes…but it was there, having begun to stir and grow for the sake of the girl. For that Arei alone he felt something: not love, oh not yet…but between them was an indistinct form of affinity, a form of recognition that aroused his senses of protectiveness and, possibly, warmth…and it was obvious to her that the girl reciprocated these feelings, despite her latent doubts. As far as the pink ancient was concerned, in that moment it was sweet indeed that Mewtwo never saw the nasty smile spreading across her muzzle as she pondered over where it all might lead…._

_Indeed, there was such potential here...all she had to do was wait, and be ready to prod it in the right direction when the time came…._

* * *

**Author's Note:** And the plot begins to emerge...I figured this was probably an interesting enough chapter to regain some readers' interests, but we will see what theresponse is if/when you review. Personally, I am quite fond of this chapter, mostly because it begins to make it apparent just how dark this world is, and just how screwed up some of the characters are...notably Mew, who, as you can see here, is 180 degrees opposite of what she was in the anime. Ultimately, she kind creeps me out...while Mewtwo, of course, makes me want to reach into my computer screen and slap him. Well, except when he calls Mew a hag - that just cracks me up every time. It's fun watching him lose his cool.

At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. See ya' next time.

- Abby


	10. Holy Days

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or Arei - I merely enjoy toying with both at my leisure. **

**Author's Note: **First, I need to comment on something in the last chapter: Arei's "exotic" coloring is only "exotic" because it is not typical in the region she where she lives – there, because of the amount of heat and sun, dark skin and hair are normal. She, however, has pale skin and a strange hair color, which is more common in the northern empire where her parents were originally from.

Other notes: this chapter draws upon an idea (the amulet) from Sherryl Jordan's Winter of Fire – since I gained inspiration for Hollow when reading the book, some of what occurs within that novel will appear in this fic. However, Winter of Fire and Hollow only share a sort of premise – the plot, the setting, the character relationships, and the ending in particular are all quite different. As such, if you pick up and read that wonderful novel…well, you will not spoil yourself here, :P. Also, Anne Richards is the Theology Secretary of the Church of England - the way she described Mewtwo seemed fitting for this particular entry.

I'll have further notes at the end of the chapter. For now, please enjoy the update!

* * *

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- E N T R Y IX. -

_**Date – May 15**__**th**__** and June 21**__**st**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

_The marks and tastes of a culture, no matter how primitive or advanced, have likely always been found in the traditional celebrations ingrained into a civilization. First conceived with the intent of expressing gratitude to the seasons, to the natural givers of new life and the harvest, these ceremonies expanded to include acknowledgements of the deities who ruled over the mysterious world which surrounded humankind in its infancy. As more time passed and society flourished, these events became dedications to specific individuals or events in history, or were created with the purposes of encouraging certain forms of civic duty. Yet in all examples, these celebrations, these ceremonies, these holidays hold a sense of what the culture they were formed in consists of, giving key indications as to the concerns of their world. Whether paying respect to one's ancestors or guardian spirits, or whether simply paying respect to one's spouse, they always, always, served some form of purpose, whether trivial or vital. Some may give working citizens and students a break from the chaos of responsibility, providing them a feasible excuse to enjoy themselves for a day. Some may be an economical tradition that the sales and trading of goods is centered around. And some may merely exist to provide color and music to an otherwise monotonous society, whose people live lives marred by routine and repetition. Yet no matter what their purpose might be, throughout human development holidays have all possessed but one common purpose: to mark the passage of time._

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

A woman of the Temple, Anne Richards, once confessed to me that she thought me a "parable about the pointlessness of force."

Even after I had forgotten all other details about this devoted follower, her words yet clung to my mind, for they seemed to not only encompass my being, but the empire I had made as well, from our mutual infancy until this eve of our youths.

Perhaps it was due to the girl's remarkable resemblance to my sister that I spent much of my time reminiscing these days…I turned over facets of my life in my mind, examining them, analyzing them, trying to find meaning in even the most mundane of moments. Prominently, my time on this planet was divided into two parts: the time before the Flood, and the time after. In general, I found the world that had surfaced from the cascading waters was entirely juxtaposed to the one which had thrived in the Industrial Era. Once the tides had swept in, the fiery strengths humankind had thought insurmountable had buckled and collapsed: the aggressive power of Western civilization had sunk into the inky seas, while alongside it, being dragged ever downward, were the drowning major religions of the West. It was not so surprising; after all, the majority of the human population had been centered in the East, where oriental traditions and humanitarian ideals had ruled society, rather than possessed by the belief in a single God and His "Savior" offspring. As such, it only followed logic that once the population was devastated, a majority of the remaining humans could be found in the East, and were hence among those that had originally leaned towards polytheism. And with the reemergence of the Legendaries, which had once been regarded around the globe as Gods by all primitive societies, what chance did Christianity, or Islam and Judaism for that matter, possess, when it had appeared to many as though God had abandoned them to the storms?

So many decades after the crisis of faith, humanity had fallen back upon their ancient beliefs…and as such, all "modern" religious concepts had been cast aside. Among them were celebrations of Holy Week (Easter) and Christmas, which, despite essentially being derived from Pagan roots, were abolished for their ties to the dying religions. However, in their place new holidays had been conceived – for what was the point of rebuilding a fresh civilization without enjoying its vigorous soul upon occasion? Those events that arose in the new system marked the solstices and equinoxes, along with the days which shifted the hours of the clock. A couple celebrations, such as Saint Valentine's Day and the pair of All Saint's and All Souls' Days, had become a parody of what they had been. February 14th was dedicated to the spirits of lost loved one…while the days from October 31st to November 2nd became the Festival of Reborn Souls. Beyond them, a few other miscellaneous items had been thrown onto the calendar, some simply placed into the months to add some energy into an otherwise bland schedule, while others marked various obligations and fateful days of the recent past. Perhaps the most solemn of these was held on August 16th, for it recognized the day that the Apocalypse had ended….

However, that grim occasion was months away. The current holiday proved far brighter in nature: it was the Life Celebration, annually held on May 15th.

It could well be compared to the national independence days of the old, free nations: parades were held throughout the empire, its performers dancing in the streets and showering the spectators with candies and freshly gathered flowers. Communal feasts were held, family and friends gathered to celebrate, and themed products in the market were sold for bargain prices. Only slightly less frivolous than the autumn Festival, it lacked only the one key element so abundant during the celebration of rebirth: firework displays. In a way, that was a great shame: for it was an event largely geared towards children, and the little ones ever enjoyed pyrotechnic shows. However, it was understandable that the people would not wish their offspring travelling about at night in hunt of explosives…it was not entirely safe. Regardless, the Life Celebration's ulterior purpose was to give the people an opportunity to present spring offerings to the God. Such gifts were not tribute, per say, for I requested little more from my inferiors beyond their obedience. Yet in their minds, they believed these offerings would be the necessary encouragement to meet two ends. First - and this was their declared motive – by providing these gifts to me, I would in turn see that their souls were safety transported to their new bodies after their current lives ended (paying Phlegyas for the ferry-ride, if you will). Secondly and secretly, they hoped that by appealing to me, essentially bribing me, they would succeed in buying themselves more time in their current lives, which they held no desire to pass from. While I knew their attempts were laughable, I never deterred them from harboring such views: why do so, when their faith gave them peace and did me no harm?

So to humor them, Arei and I lingered in the grand hall, observing the procession which filtered in from the sun-gilded afternoon. A plethora of bouquets and sweets were set upon tables, and when those were filled, the cleared floor around them. Many individuals knelt before us and murmured their prayers, while others of more standing bowed and called out greetings and well wishes to us. Within a matter of two hours since the Temple doors were flung open at dawn, the air had become heavy and thick with the perfume of gardens harvested for our enjoyment, and still they trickled in with yet more and more flora to pleasure the nose and eyes. From experience, I knew it would take a fortnight before any of them would begin to wilt, and about a month before their petals were fully swept from the building. My Temple would be littered with the colorful plants…but I suppose there were worse alternatives. At the very least, my priestess seemed thrilled with these gifts. Earlier, a child had shyly come up to her and had extended a rather remarkable bouquet, almost surely snitched from a private greenhouse: lilies, after all, were only supposed to bloom during late summer, and this particular breed was not native to this region. Yet the snowy Casablanca lilies, with their strong sweet odor and their long, graceful petals and crimson anthers, which budded from lengthy, jade stems. She held one of the blooms separate from the rest, holding it gingerly between her fingertips…the petals lightly caressed her lips, and she smiled happily at the gift. I made a mental note to find the gardener later and purchase a few more of the plants…after all, the flowers should be paid for, and a few more bundles would do nicely in her quarters….

Besides…the white lilies, with their virtuous meanings, suited her….

So long as she never received fire lilies, I would be content.

Sweeping my eyes over the potential gardeners, I noted how many of the procession yet lingered in the hall: many remained to speak with their fellows, for with their main shops being closed this day, and the booths they owned capable of being run by their spouses and heirs, they had time to spend conversing. While I found the topics of their discussion to be rather dull and even agitating, for I had heard such subjects recycled for more years than I desired to contemplate, my priestess seemed to take some pleasure from listening to their chattering. I sighed silently, gazing at her…she was human, and so possessed an affinity for her own kind that I could not share. She was not a creature who enjoyed silence and solitude, or savored the shadows, which were my personal temptations…and consequently, she could derive joy from something I found banal and disdainful, for it offered her what it could no longer offer me….

Brushing the thought away, I continued to search among the botanists for the one who grew the lilies…and eventually, too soon and yet not soon enough, the procession ended….

* * *

**AREI:**

As the last of the offerings were presented, stillness seemed to seep through the audience before us; the march of visitors had halted, the crowds began to coagulate, and the buzzing conversations they voiced slowly intensified. As I focused my ears onto the rapid words, I quickly found the source of the speakers' apparent agitation: economics. The low speech recited trade statistics, catalogued imports and exports with their varied quantities and qualities, debated over prime bartering techniques, offered advice to their fellow merchants…as my mind began to spin on the onslaught of marketing information, I forced myself not to grimace, knowing these visitors would not respond positively to my mingled impatience and boredom at these business affairs. While the subjects surely appealed to those seeking quick currency, it had no value to me, thanks largely in part to me having no need for or even access to money. Hence, like a little, black leech, disinterest latched onto my mind and began to suckle away all of the happy feelings the morning hours had provided me with. I would have well liked to flee from hall and cling to my lightheartedness…and perhaps not surprisingly, I was not the only one with such a desire:

As I glanced through the individuals in the crowd, my gaze came to rest upon the numerous children, who fidgeted beside their parents and looked as if they wanted dearly to voice their displeasure at being forced to remain here, uncharacteristically quiet, motionless, and solemn with respect. True, they were in the presence of the most powerful leaders of their empire, and so their reserved behavior was expected – but I was certain that had they not been silenced by a stern look from their caretakers, they would have complained and begged for their parents to take them home, where they would surely be able to enjoy the celebrations with their companions. I admit, they made me stir with compassion. Slowly and slyly, an idea of how to liberate us began to formulate in my mind, one which, if successful, might free us from hours of pretending to heed the obscure discussions around us. Wary of how the God might react – for since my illness he had become unpredictable, vying between treating me with his typical coolness and a strange, lukewarm warmth - I stiffly rose to my feet and ignored the stares that soon burrowed into my back. I leaned close to the seraph, timidly whispering my desire into his ear and hoping he would concede. Would he deliver me, deliver _us_, from this place…? After fixing his gaze upon me for a short while, he lifted his muzzle and queried, (_Are you certain you can handle such a thing, priestess_?)

I nodded, allowing my desperation and hope to shine in my eyes. He sighed…and then, with a curt nod and a flick of a paw, gave his weary approval.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

She beamed upon the adults as she declared that, if they consented to her request, she would temporarily be stealing their children away. Had it been anyone else proposing that he or she take the children, their heirs, from their parents' sides to visit the Temple gardens, I doubted they would have willingly allowed such a separation. Yet they comprehended as well as I that the young woman before them was benign, and would place their young ones in no harm – and besides, they comprehended well that without the children to fuss over, they could truly discuss their wares without distractions. Now they might focus completely upon the matters at hand, instead of on the unappealing urchins they had dragged along for the opportunity to appeal to the new High Priestess….

Yet to gain their full attention was not the reason why I allowed the girl to have her way….

…Her desires, it seemed, were growing ever more difficult for me to deny…and that made me feel the stirrings of resentment towards her, though she herself had yet to commit any true wrong against me. However, the loathing still made my innards leaden, and I found some relief from the unpleasant weight once I had given her leave to depart – her impending absence was partially soothing. With vague interest, I listened to her make her concluding appeals: she reassured the people by _not ordering_ them to hand over their offspring, and eased their suspicions with her friendly, open smile. She gave them no reason to believe her motives were dishonest or malignant, and with an outing offered, a majority of the little creatures pleaded for their guardians to allow them to go with her. Some of their caretakers, I noted, were perhaps too happy to give up their progeny to the empress; perhaps they believed this willingness to sacrifice their most precious commodity would curry divine favor. I counted the number of children released to my priestess: forty or so skipped along behind her out of the Temple entranceway. Only the older ones, it appeared, refrained from following Arei out of the grand hall into the outside world…and I wondered then, grimly, when they had stopped believing in innocent intentions….

...And, furthermore, at what point Arei would become as disillusioned as they….

* * *

**AREI:**

As the astronomers had predicted, the weather was calm and mild – the temperatures were warm, but the cool breeze off the sea kept the heat at bay. As the children and I travelled out into the gardens, finally settling on a hill that overlooked the waters below, cottony clouds drifted across the higher plain of deep azure. Several of the younger members of our group fawned over the exotic wildflowers that the gardeners had transplanted just this spring, while other gaped at the view before them – I doubted they had seen the sea from these heights before. It _was_ quite extraordinary…. Sitting down in the sweet-smelling clover, I watched the young ones play tag with the migrating Butterfrees, giggling and enjoying their unexpected freedom with their friends. Some sat beside me on the crest of the rise, their fingers clutching at handfuls of grass as they gazed up into the firmament, their imaginative minds depicting shapes within the clouds in an ancient game as old as any other playtime. A smile curled across my mouth as I watched them run about…one weary little girl rested against me, her small head held in my lap. The scene proved full of energy and joy, and yet…I felt sad as I gently stroked the blond, feathery locks of the child's hair, and sighed with the emotion I could not explain….

Children, I learned, are generally rather empathic creatures, even though they do not necessarily understand complex concepts. Yet if someone is burdened, they in turn become sorrowful at spying the weight they carry. If someone is happy and carefree, they in turn become joyful. They may be imps or angels depending on the situation, and while they might torment one for fun, when encountering someone who is upset, they seek to comfort that individual in any manner they can. Proving this concept in part, the black-haired boy beside me tugged upon my robes, and asked, "High Priestess Arei, why are you sad?"

I attempted to give him reassuring smile which hid my irrational sorrow, but I knew it came across strained and listless. His concern, however, was touching. "I…I do not know. One would think that on a beautiful day like this I'd be happy."

He blinked. "Is it God Abaddon?"

Well there was an unexpected response. "Now what gives you that idea?"

He shrugged a bit self-consciously. "I dunno…but people say you two are friends, and friends can make each other sad…."

I merely shook my head slowly at that. "I don't know if we can be considered friends…although I would like to be close to him. Regardless, I was serious before – I am not certain why I feel down presently. It's not Abaddon though; he doesn't really upset me - quite the opposite, actually."

By now, our conversation had captured the interest of several of the younglings, and they sat around me, listening intently. "Do you like him, Priestess Arei?" one of them chirped.

Perhaps it was merely the heat of the sunlight, but I felt my face warm slightly. "Well, yes…he…he's guided me these past few months, and he is someone I can trust and depend on. I merely wish I could make him smile is all - make him genuinely happy, if only for a second."

It is easier to speak to children than adults - they do not judge you, and they treat you as an equal if you return the favor.

"He's not happy?" They seemed rather perplexed at the idea.

I stared off towards the cobalt line where the sky met the sea. "…I don't think so. He is content, perhaps, and satisfied…but not happy."

"Maybe it's because he's the Shinigami," one commented, "My mum says he regulates souls - he helps them get reborn."

Though the idea had been inferred to me once or twice, no one had ever commented on the matter quite so openly before. "Does he? I didn't know that."

They gazed at me in shocked disbelief. "But you're our Priestess! You're supposed to!"

I chuckled a little, nervous laugh. "Well, it is not like I've been around that long; besides, Abaddon does not tell me about his personal occupations. He keeps to himself when he is not dealing with some fussy human or me." This earned a round of giggles, though what was so funny escaped me. However, they dropped that thread of that conversation there, though continued to chatter and trade questions and replies among themselves. Through these discussions, my understanding of the world I lived in only continued to broaden. I learned of the hardships the citizens had to deal with through the lack of medication, of the dangerous hunts for the resources to fire ovens, of the expensive value of ice to cool food in the hot summer months. I learned that around one in five children die of food poisoning, and that among those who survived, some considered the world a merciless, grimy, gritty place of sand and sun. The more I learned, the more agitated I became…as their empress, I knew there was far more to life than they realized, for I experienced that each day in my own confined life….

But I knew nothing of their world, did I? Though we lived in the same empire, our positions in it were entirely different, and so the wonder that I felt at merely being alive, at being able to feel what existence had to offer…they did not share that. Lying back in the grass, I watched with them as a representative from the God of Sky floated out of the trees, its blue, serpentine body lazily swimming through the air, its twin wings fluttering and its tail leaving behind a trail of sparkles. The children around me, having never seen a Dragonair before, were stunned at the sight of it: the only Holy Children they had encountered before were those who volunteered their services to humankind, since humans could not legally own them as they once had. Hence, the wild, exotic dragon was a rare treat for them, leaving them giddy at the unexpected sighting. God Rayquaza, I am certain, would be pleased with his missionary.

As it drifted away to return to guarding the gardens, the young girl I had been holding queried, "Priestess Arei, did God Abaddon give you his amulet?"

My hand went to the cool disk now pressed against my chest, the gift presented to the High Priestess during her fourth month in her position – to protect her now that she was out of her infancy in the political sphere, and hence no longer under her God's guarding wing. "…Yes, he did," I murmured.

"Can we see it?"

As there was no reason to deny them such, I reached for the metallic thread about my neck and pulled the circular talisman from beneath my robes. God Abaddon's sacred sign was carved into the obsidian surface: the crescent moon cradling a teardrop within its cusp. Abaddon had said that only those who specifically desired to harm me would ignore the sight of it – anyone else would balk at the possibility of incurring the wrath of a God for harming his priestess. Even under the warm sun, it remained ever cool against my skin…but the gift provided me with a sort of comfort, for it indicated to me - at least to a small extent - that he cared for my safety and valued my life.

And that was what I desired: not to be a mere tool, but to be someone who could make him feel some joy instead of loneliness. I understood, finally, that I could not become close to others as I had wished, but to him, the one I was allowed to be close to…perhaps I could matter.

I tucked the amulet away, feeling it against my breastbone, and closed my eyes to the sunlight….

* * *

…Over a month passed - Spirit's Eve arrived. Since Marie had explained it to me, I had dreaded it like a heavy blade over my head, posed to fall as the evening commenced. None had aided me in overcoming this fear: Marie had merely given me her warnings, Craven had made his revolting comments, while Byron had flushed and blabbered incoherently when I had sought to gain his guidance. Only Abaddon, I felt now, could have helped ease my uncertainty – but naturally, since the night in question so concerned him, he was the last individual I could find the courage to speak to. Perhaps it was a fortunate thing then, that my Handmaidens had brewed me a drink to make the twilight go smoother – as the salty liquid and herbs within the chalice hit my stomach and their essences seeped through my system, I quickly become lost in my own mind. My concerns grew muddled and insensible, and I found myself submitting willing to my Handmaiden as they worked to prepare me for the event. Distantly I felt slender hands preening my pale, naked form in a purifying bath, the warm waters of which were mingled with an array of scented oils and salts. My mind grew evermore fuzzy as the fragrances filled my nose, my sense of self-awareness and inhibitions slipping from me like the cleansing waters as I was taken from the bath. I found some comfort from this procedure - the cold knot in my stomach began to unclench, the tension in my muscles ease, and my nervousness evaporate from my mind. Thought were sluggish and indistinct – I could not remember one hour from the next, being only able to recall faint glimpses of the procedures. In a manner, that was welcome to me…I did not want to remember.

Vaguely, I felt soft towels pat me dry, and felt a tugging on my scalp as my hair was brushed out and styled. Silk slid against my flushed skin as I was dressed in thin, revealing garb that hardly befitted anyone who was supposed to be hallowed. But then, I was not supposed to be pure this eventide. I could almost laugh, but the chuckled died in my throat….

As the night deepened, my Handmaidens began to dwindle to attend to their personal affairs; they made flimsy excuses at their departures, but I did not mind their disappearances. Whether they were supposed to go or not was meaningless to me – I did not care, for I did not like them at all. Snobbish women, touching my flesh and sometimes pinching…leave, leave, leave to your lover's sides as you intend! Fever soon began to overcome me, my breath growing short and quick, deliriousness following. As Marie led me upstairs, keeping me from staggering about, I began to blather about what I was experiencing: my blood was fire, in my core was a constant ache, my flesh longed for the gentle touch of a male. The halls were empty, the walls were empty, I was empty…! By the time I was left alone in Abaddon's quarters, I was barely conscious, and slid in and out of insensible fantasies which only served to disturb me. Feeling too exposed, too open, I curled up upon his bed tightly, whimpering as the wretched itch and sensitivity and unwelcome slickness between my legs…I wanted it to stop.

_Make it all stop…._

* * *

_The Lead Handmaiden was accustomed to the reactions of the High Priestesses to the cocktail they were made to drink, and as such did not have much trouble getting the girl into Abaddon's vacant quarters. However, she stalled some as she arranged the covers about the intoxicated girl, contemplating what might happen to the young female that she would soon abandon to the God's lusts. She had heard rumors of what occurred to a priestess during this night, but…she was well aware of the fact that the empress in question was yet a child in mind. True, she was increasingly gaining the attitude of an adolescent, and a pleasant one at that…but still, the Marie worried for the girl she was charged with guiding. Though she doubted it was likely, what might happen to her ward if Abaddon accepted her tonight? Who would Arei become because of such an experience? More insistent, however, was the question of why this was being done in the first place; after all, no other empire had their holy figurehead submit to this type of ordeal. Perhaps, the woman speculated, it was because of the many human quantities the Neo-God possessed that his priestess was laid before him like a sacrifice, his alone to desire and his alone to take. Still, was it _right_, this potential union between an immortal and a mortal? There seemed no justification for it beyond the taunting possibility of an heir, and if such a blessing could be obtained, should they not do all they could to gain it? Yet the question haunted her: was it fair to Arei, to forfeit her body for a fragile dream, or simply for the God's pleasure? Throughout her life, Marie had been taught it was…but in her heart, she did not think so. However, nothing could be done to alter what was - she was a follower, nothing more, and she must obey the duties bestowed upon her...just as the girl must. _

_So as she left the child behind, Marie buried her uncertainty and merely offered a small prayer before she left for the warm arms of her lover: __that whatever the God's decision might be, he would do the girl no harm._

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

As it had for over thirty years, Spirit's Eve encroached, unwelcome, into the hours of an otherwise tranquil summer's night. While I realized it had its uses – fulfilling illicit desires which, if left unsatisfied, could lead to infighting and the breaking of alliances, as well as replenishing the human population and broadening their gene pool - I loathed its arrival each year. I cursed the arrogance of the Priests as I paced upon the Temple roof, my tail lashing behind me violently in my agitation. Why did they continue to attempt to force a human woman upon me, even though I had made my opinion on the matter painfully clear to them? I did not wish to have any female placed in my quarters, prepared to be as enticing as the aromas of a delicious feast to one who lay starving. How many times in the past had I returned to my rooms on this evening, desiring only to languish in sleep, and had to deal with the irking presence of a human in my bed, whose purpose there was for anything but rest? Certainty there had been instances when my moods had tempted me to engage in carnal activity…but my disgust at the sight of my Priestesses so defiled by this evening had won out over my libido. No matter how lascivious they had been, I had turned away and slept somewhere else in the following hours….

After all, I'd had my fill of such erotic pleasures once before, and those experiences with Christina were enough to teach me all I needed to know of mating….

…_She was brave._

_I had realized this when I had chosen her to be my empress, but I had not understood the extent of her courage until now. As far as she knew, the night she had agreed to spend with me might leave her body torn and bruised – after all, as a beast my muscles were far stronger than those of any man, and I might well possess claws and fangs to sink into her tender flesh. Yet she had agreed to expose all of herself to me, and not even take the drugs her Handmaidens had offered her to ease the experience. She had insisted to them, along with the concerned Imperial Physician, that she needed no encouragement to join in union with her God – she would be with me willingly, and would show me the intimacies of physicality. I had awaited her in my chamber, and watched with mingled fascination and excitement as she slid her robes from her form, revealing to me the olive skin beneath, which had shown like bronze in the firelight illuminating the bedroom. She had approached me slowly but surely, laying a kiss upon my mouth, hesitant at first, but soon heated with my own growing desire. I drew her into my arms, under the covers of the bed, roaming her naked, soon slick flesh with my paws. She, in turn, ran her fingers over my warming form…the sensation of her touch made me reel, fresh as I was to any form of caress, and my breathing caught as her hands stroked at the more intimate regions of my person. I buried myself against her yielding form, her corn-silk hair soft and fragrant…her eyes, blue and half-lidded, stared up at me, inviting me do as I wished. She held onto me as I surrendered to my cravings…linked, we moved together awkwardly, hurriedly, the startling bliss and pain of the experience melding as we raced towards completion…._

_Afterwards, we had lain in the sheets loosely intertwined, my tail lazily running down her hip. The woman winced slightly, though otherwise kept from her face any sign of the discomfort she was experiencing. In that moment, I mused over the differences in our experiences – for her, the loss of her virginity kept her from knowing pleasure in the act, but for me…ecstasy at the liaison, at the feel of being cradled within her, was high and pure. And yet…her hurt had sullied my rapture. In those short moments when her blood seeped into my fur, her entire being had been exposed to me: her body, her emotions, her very thoughts…and her revulsion had made the act seem strangely hollow. No matter the wonder of climax, her lack of joy did not leave me gratified…instead, her anger and disgust left me more frustrated than before. Her body may have allowed me entrance, but her mind, and more importantly, the heart I admired, had not. To me, this experience was empty – surely, there was more to lovemaking than what she had given me? I tilted my head to gaze upon her…she had closed her eyes, but she was yet awake._

_(_So tell me, Christina…was that love?_) My words carried none of the mocking, sarcastic, bitter edges she was accustomed to - I was honestly curious as to her reply, though I felt, even then, that I already knew what her answer would be. I felt terribly vulnerable as I awaited her reply, and felt a mild, unrealized dread begin to stir in my gut. Finally, she laughed, amused, and it was a cruel, sharp sound that made my spirit crumple._

"_Not even close, Abaddon - as pleasant as your physical high might be, it is nothing compared to the happiness that comes from being with the one you love. Sorry to disappoint you."_

_(…_You are not - you find this entire affair laughable._) I kept my voice low, even, but in truth, I despised the cool tone she possessed. She reserved it for no other being in this world but me, the one she was meant to be closest to…._

_She opened her eyes, and bright blue met deep violet in the gloom. "You're right – I do. You claim to be curious about love, and to humor you I let you take from me the last thing you hadn't stolen...but the truth is that you're not the type of being who _can_ love, Abaddon. I doubt you ever will be – after all, all you care about is your own ambitions, your own needs, and if anything, this wretched evening just affirmed that."_

…_I forced a wry smile upon my face, and spoke quietly. (_You are quite bold, human...if you despise me so very much, what reason did you have in allowing me to share this night with you?)

_She sat up, grimacing, and clutched a sheet around herself to ward away the chill – the notion of warming herself by resting against my fur never crossed her mind. "Why? - To teach you a lesson, I suppose. You can have anything you want, my Lord, but you will always lack what matters most in this world, for you cannot obtain those blessings by force. They must alight upon you…and you haven't the kind of heart necessary for them to do so. Furthermore, those, like me, who do attempt to give you a taste of them…they do so out of pity, not concern for you. That knowledge was all this was meant to impart upon you, nothing more."_

_(…_A shame you cannot speak to Mew - I am certain you both would enjoy plotting against me_.)_

_She grinned in real mirth. "Perhaps - I guess we will have to wait and see."_

_And to lessen the sting of her words, I chuckled aloud. (_You intrigue me, Christina. If you would allow it, I can heal your pain; there is no need for you to suffer the remainder of the night_.)_

_She would have none of that. "No - I will grin and bear it...although your offer again proves my point."_

_Sudden confusion filled me. (_What do you mean?)

_Her eyes again met mine – they gleamed like ice in the murk, beautiful but cold. "If you had really cared, you would have healed me without asking - perhaps while inside of me. If you had cared, I doubt I would have shed blood on your bed."_

…_Later, I would concede to her argument…for indeed, she would never have bled had I cared more…._

Rising from the dismal memory, I gazed upon the door that opened up to my bedchamber. In myself, I found no desire to open it and look upon Arei, who would be displayed for my private viewing like a masterpiece of lewd artwork. She was too innocent to be molested by the eyes of a lonely male, too much like a child to be seen in the teasing garbs of a being far more mature than she was. The situational irony sickened something inside of me, as the notion of placing Ai into a whore's outfit might. However, my paw reached out, the knob turning beneath my fingertips, and I hoped fervently that for once my High Priestess might have been spared the humiliation of this night. She was too young for this shame…and though I knew as well as any of her true history, the thought of her brimming with lust did not appeal to me….

And as I saw her, dismay pooled in me at the sight of the creature who had taken her place: the physically mature female lay sprawled out in the fabrics of my bed, her dark hair lush about her shoulders, the flickering firelight of the candles accenting the smooth softness of her skin. I noted vaguely the gentle undulations of her chest, of how her skin was slightly flushed, of the way in which her lips and legs were slightly parted. I noted the shadowing upon her eyelids, the color of which gave them an exotic quality and brought out the fire burning within them. I noted that her clothes merely consisted of a thin wrap around her waists and breasts, and to add further insult, were nearly transparent. Finally, I noted how both looked as though they could be pulled from her with ease…and how both barely concealed the most intimate parts of her person. Unwillingly, I felt myself begin to heat as I stared at what they had done to her, a response which only intensified as she began to stir awake and moan, her motions making the garments she wore bunch and slip from the flesh they were meant to cover. She lay before me, exposed, defenseless, her body all but oozing with desire…it was enough to make me stiffen and my face flush red. A sudden, hot knot coiled tight with craving beneath my belly, and the forbidden thought entered my brain: it had been so long…just once, just this once, could I not give in and share this evening with a woman again…?

Slowly, uncertainly, I stepped forward to the edge of the bed, looking down at her without a smile…she tilted her face upwards, returning my gaze, though her eyes were dull and unfocused. After a moment as my eyes trailed over her once more, I lowered myself into the covers with her, and murmured for her gently to turn around…she did so, not questioning, though she murmured my given name as she did, her tone making clear to me her yearning. The sound of it made the ache in me worse, and purposefully I lifted one of her legs slightly…and took her hand, leading her palm to cover the precious area between her thighs, allowing no one, not even me, access to it….

(_This part of you, Arei…it holds the keys to rapture and new life…and as such, it is a sacred place. For your sake, allow no one but the person you love entrance into it…for no one else would be worthy of your gift,) _I murmured, and drew away, my chest feeling strangely leaden. I carefully bundled her within the sheets of the bed, and afterwards, planted a chaste kiss to her hair.

_(Rest now...in the morning, you will feel better, I promise you.) _

And with that, I fled from my chambers before the thought of tainting her rose so dangerously within my mind once more….

Yet after I rinsed myself in an icy shower, anger began to fill me in the place of lust. What were they thinking, setting up a mere girl to be molested or raped, simply because they could? Did they not realize how her sweetness would be ruined by such violations…? Reason soon evaporated as I prowled the hallways of the Temple, soon finding one among the guilty in the stairwell. Taking him by the robes, I slammed him against the nearest wall, ignoring his groan in pain at the impact. (_Damn you all!_) I snarled, baring my fangs at him. (_Arei is still a child in soul, even if her body is that of a woman's! Have you all no sense at all among you…?_)

The man seemed far more perplexed than alarmed at my reaction, and gave me no reply…but amusement, to my fury, twinkled in his eyes as he regarded me. With a growl, I released him roughly and stalked away, returning to my quarters and slamming the door to the yet moist washroom. I returned under the freezing waters of the shower, wondering with agitation if I could chill not only my libido but my sudden anger as well. After several minutes under the pounding spray and of staring as the frigid tiles beneath my feet, my being began to purge itself of all that strained it...but my thoughts, even while my flesh forgot the previous hour, soon grew haunted by it. For in so many ways, Arei truly was what I had said she was: a child in soul. Yet in so many other ways, in ways I now needed to confront…she was not. After all, did she not bleed every month, as all grown women do…?

Gazing into the mirror, my skin crawling from the cold, I saw why the Attendant had been so amused: for I, like her, was bleeding. From my muzzle trickled a droplet of crimson liquid, the last of what may have been a greater flow.

Had I not been so disgusted, I may well have laughed…instead, I felt as though shards of glass were shredding my insides….

* * *

**Author's Note: **First, if you would be so kind, _**REVIEW**_. The button is now so easy to access that you don't have the excuse of missing where the option is, and leaving me a few comments takes maybe fifteen seconds. The least some of you can do is let me know you're reading this fic.

Anyhow, further notes for this chapter: first, Christina, if you guys haven't realized this, messed Mewtwo up. She hurt him quite badly, but let me stress that Mewtwo did not actually love the woman – he admired her and longed for her to be kind to him as she was to others, that was all. Second, when Mewtwo commented that the Priests were setting Arei up to be raped…that was quite literal, since her drink was spiked with GHB, otherwise known as the "date-rape drug." This is wrong and immoral to say the least, but this should give you an idea as to just how little that group actually cares about Arei's well-being, and how screwed up this society is for allowing this to go on.

Also, Mewtwo's scene towards the end where he walks in on Arei…this was originally quite different: instead of what occurs here, he originally staggers away and yells at the first person he sees (Byron) to get Arei properly dressed, and then escort her to her quarters. In retrospect, this made no sense, since Mewtwo has obviously seen nearly naked women before, and ones that are certainty more stunning than Arei is. He did not panic at the sight of them, so why should he panic at the sight of Arei? Regardless, this still opens his eyes to the fact that Arei is not as much of a child as he likes to think – so it is a turning point. Admittedly, the scene that ended up occurring is slightly creepy or cute, depending on the way you are interpreting it. I, personally, am going to settle on creepy, just because Mewtwo seems to get too close to taking her.

Finally, the last sentence of the chapter has a double meaning, which will be important in the next entry. Hopefully I can begin to update this fic every week – cross your fingers for me!

Anyhow, thank you for reading! See ya'.

Abby


	11. Alterations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or Arei.**

**Author's Note: **I should comment now that I think Arei and Mewtwo are taking over writing this fic. If any of you reading this are also deeply involved with writing, you are aware of the fact that writers channel their characters, and truly haven't a chance at controlling them half of the time. Such is the way this story seems to be going – out of my hands. My rough draft of this piece, if I recall correctly, has Arei and Mewtwo still being rather distant at this time, but now…somehow, emotion is creeping in. If I'm not careful, the first sex scene between them (which I am honestly considering scraping) might just become the first love scene in this fic...and it happens way, way too early for romance to be a factor yet. Though, this does bring me to a question I've been contemplating for the past few hours...one which, since this fic is rated M, I am assuming my readers are mature enough to handle. If not, please do not bother answering and making me deal with the awkwardness.

My question is, do any of you think that Mewtwo would be willing to give oral sex to a female? 'Female' being one of the key words here, because I know one reader would be all too thrilled with the concept of him providing such a service to another male. This reader knows who he is, and I would ask him to refrain from answering this question, as I find him quite biased in his beliefs about Mewtwo, and I need objectivity about this matter.

On one hand, Mewtwo is a feline, and all felines lick themselves and others where it would gross most people out. On the other hand, well…in a way, it is a form of experimentation, and is Mewtwo willing to be that bold, considering his past? Plus, as some of you who have read most of my work are aware, I have never written such a scene before. I cannot honestly say I haven't contemplated a reversal of the roles…but I am hesitant to have one of my female characters behaving in such a manner, and the only one I think I might tolerate doing such is the one character whose story I have no intention of ever releasing, because it…well, to be quite frank, it creeps me the hell out. At any rate, while I am certain I could write such a scene accurately enough, I do wonder if it is appropriate for this particular story. Now, given Arei's background, I am halfway certain she has the experience with this kind of sex, but as she is not quite back to the stage where sex can be a casual act...so I really just don't know. These characters sometimes confuse me terribly, especially Arei (sweat-drop).

Suffice to say this potential scene would merely replace a more traditional sex scene, since I do not believe that fingering would invoke the reaction in Arei that I need to propel the story forward. And to make it quite clear, this reaction is not an orgasm – the reaction I'm being vague about happens well after the scene itself.

…Plus, a part of me finds the notion of her yelling at him, asking him what possessed him to do that, to be funny as hell. But I suppose I am weird that way. Just keep in mind as you think about this that neither of the two are exactly sober when this happens, so…well, what more can I say?

Anyhow, I hope I have not disturbed any of you too horribly. As I said, I am merely curious to see what readers would think, and I am not willing to simply throw an unprecedented oral sex scene at you all without due warning. At any rate, this chapter, while there are suggestions of mature activities, is not even remotely limey, so no worries here. I do hope you enjoy it, as it is an important chapter.

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- E N T R Y X. -

_**Date – July 31**__**st**__** and August 2**__**nd**__**-5**__**th**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

_If there is anything that life teaches us, it's that nothing ever remains the same. At times, the changes undergone are so gradual that we do not even notice the alterations until comparing the result with what one began with. At other times, shocking events in our lives can leave our world and our people transformed overnight. These drastic episodes, tragically, often arrive in the form of atrocities: a shooting at a public school, an attack on world trading facilities, the genocide of the powerless. When we encounter these abominations, many of us do not know how to cope. Inevitably, though, even as we struggle to regain normalcy, the innocence within us permanently twists. We grow, for there is no other option...and if this maturation is paired with the chaos of adolescence, the disaster will speed us to adulthood at alarming rates. Our outlooks, our observations, and our philosophies morph: in friends, we may see lovers; instead of black and white, we may see gray. We become idealistic, and eventually, find the path towards becoming the adults we were meant to be...and we cast the child we once – now but a ghost of a more peaceful age – behind us._

* * *

**AREI:**

…My seraph was uncertain how to react to my presence any longer: in the days following Spirit's Eve, that truth had become evident to me. He avoided me as much as he was able to, and whenever I did manage to near him, he treated me distantly and spoke to me in a cool, detached voice. To some extent, I could understand why he was behaving this way – though I was new to this world, that hardly made me unintelligent, and I understood the implications of how he had gazed upon me that night, and what the flush of his face and the heat pouring from his pelt had meant. Although he had not committed the act that would have ruined my purity, to not only witness but _be possessed by _raw craving degraded the innocence within me nonetheless. Such desire was unbefitting of a child…and so my spirit began to grasp for the maturity that my body already possessed, and the inevitable occurred: my views of my God shifted.

A guardian and teacher, after all, should not look upon the being he taught and protected with anything more than platonic affection – to do differently would pollute what was a sacred bond, leaving only two possible outcomes. Either the duo must reject one another, as Abaddon seemed to be attempting to force…or they could accept it and build upon it, essentially becoming partners in seeking growth. I yearned far more for the latter option, for to alienate my lord was to alienate the only certainty I had in this world - without him, I would be lost. And so, with increasing certitude I began to reach out to him, and upon finding no way past the walls he erected to shun me, I occupied myself with intellectual pursuits – now, more than ever, did I need to comprehend the intricacies of social interactions. Yet the more I learned, the more I struggled…and the more I was tormented with how my God seemed to be transforming before my eyes. It was but an illusion, I grasped, for he was not truly changing: _I_ was, and so, by extension, were my perceptions of him.

As autumn arrived, the flowers of the gardens wilting, the grasses turning dry and brittle, the leaves of the trees burning in the hues of low embers, the shifts in me became ever clearer. As I wandered along the courtyard paths, gazing about, I was momentarily tempted to leap upon the heaps of fallen leaves beneath the maples…but whereas before I knew I would have played within the crackling leaves, I now decided against following the whim. With a sigh I clutched my heavier robes about me closer to ward away the abuse of the chilly wind, my thoughts quiet as I noticed the tiny details of the path that so many other people, as entrapped within their hectic lifestyles as they were, often never see. I noticed that the undersides of the leaves clinging to one of the maple trees were pale, as if sunlight had never caressed them. I noticed how tiny black birds wheeled at random intervals in the sky, the winged ballerinas of an elaborate, aerial dance. I noticed the intervals in the buzzes of the chirping cicadas, noticed the scent of honey near the grove where the beekeepers worked. During these strolls, time slowed to a creeping pace, and the stress clinging to me slipped away, freeing my body and soul of the oily weight which worries possessed. I felt healthier as I wandered about and simply allowed myself to _feel…_and my contemplations, usually strewn in my mind without order, became organized. Closing my eyes for a moment, I fiddled with my amulet, a random melody hummed within my throat - it was soft and slow, and quiet like my own heart.

As the morning became noon, and the mists from the sea dissipated from the capital, I returned to my quarters, as I had no tasks to attend to this day – I could do whatever I wished in the upcoming hours, so long as I caused no uproar which would distract the God from his current occupation. From what Byron had told me, Abaddon was in conference with a foreigner, an individual whom the Attendant admitted knowing little about, as the sessions with the being were held strictly confidential. Evidently, these meetings concerned the personal business of the God, and as such, were not to be disturbed. Initially, this had irked me: so the God's privacy was to be respected without question, even by me, his empress, while my body and my living chambers alike could be stripped and explored at the leisure of certain individuals? Revulsion had made me shake and clench my jaw as the man had left to attend to his other duties, but now that I'd had the time to contemplate the matter, I understood sadly that perhaps this was the price of my occupation. I possessed so little in this world which was strictly mine alone. What material items I owned were but accumulations from the acquisitions of past priestesses, and hence could never truly be mine, though I need not share them with anyone. What activities I took pleasure in were often ones which I was required to participate in with other people, such as Marie or Byron. And what precious bonds I shared with others, and even my personal thoughts and emotions, were – in the minds of so many faceless beings – only acceptable if carefully monitored and manipulated to fit the ideals laid out in our scriptures. Any deviant developments in the pattern were to be swiftly coaxed back into place, or, if that route proved impossible, quashed. Such was the duty of the Priests, to keep all in order for the God, as he had demanded of them when their convent had been established.

And what was my duty…? I was charged with but one scared task: to make the orderly world a heaven for the dark God.

And that was all I truly had – the God. I had him, the everything of this empire, but beyond him had nothing at all. Yet that stated, it was a right that no one else could hope to claim: the right to be close to the seraph. I could have casual conversation with him, could touch him and gaze into his face without awe or fear. Such was the relationship between the immortal and his chosen companion.

Strength and solace filling me at the notion, I stood, intending to claim that right to be by his side….

…But for all I had learned in the last several weeks, naivety remained a curse upon me.

With quickening steps, I quitted my quarters and crossed the hallway to Abaddon's door, and there paused. How should I enter his chambers? Should I do so quietly and attempt not to make a nuisance of myself, or should I give them fair warning that I would be joining them by calling out? Noting that he was in conference with a foreigner, who perhaps would not understand my tongue, I merely kept to the universal request for admittance: I knocked firmly upon the barrier before me, hoping that the God would be the one to answer it. I felt uncertain doing so, for never before had I needed to rap my hand against the door: his rooms were usually always open to me. Yet as a full minute passed, then two, I received no response. I remained standing out in the hallway for a moment, indecisive…but then opened the door myself and entered the God's quarters, which smelled faintly of musk and mint. The main room, I found, was dim and still - no sounds arose in the apartment, and I wondered vaguely if perhaps the visitor and he had vacated the chambers for a more comfortable room. Abaddon's quarters, after all, were scarcely furnished. To be thorough, however, I drifted through the chambers, instinctively silent, and made my way closer towards the bedroom I had slept in not two months ago. Surely, they would not be there…? Yet the door was slightly ajar, and from within I heard what sounded like the brushing of fabrics….

I was too curious not to look, and so I peeked into the room…and froze, my eyes widening and my stomach jerking unpleasantly.

God Abaddon saw me peering in immediately, but he did not move…nor did his companion. (_Arei? What are you doing here?_) He growled softly. (_What do you want?)_

My hands clenched and unclenched as my sides…I trembled. "I…I only wished to…."

I could say nothing; I merely bit my lip, tearing my eyes away from the scene before me, and stammered out the apology that would release me from this unwelcome sight. "I-I am sorry for interrupting. Please excuse me."

With those hurried words, I turned and fled…but their image stalked me as I raced away: of the raven-haired goddess curled at his side, her legs intertwined with his, her hand to his chest, her lips pursed against his throat. Her exquisite physique was scarcely clothed, for her cloak hung over his bedpost, suggesting to me that she was well comfortable with the intimacy she seemed to share with the God. Indeed, her eyes seemed to taunt me, to mock me, as they glimmered with coy glee and silent laughter, and the smile of her crimson lips said far more to me than any words she might have voiced….

My throat ached and my eyes stung, mere echoes of the pain which tore through my chest whenever I dared breathe in….

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

…The young woman's startled expression burned itself into my retinas, lingering before me even as we heard the door to my quarters slam shut. Finding the interruption entirely comical, the woman beside me purred quietly into my ear, "She killed the mood, my dear."

I bristled, staring purposefully up at the pale ceiling above us. (_I am hardly your 'dear', Kaliesha...and there was no mood for her to kill._)

She merely laughed at my words, and gestured to the doorway. "Oh? _She_ certainty seemed to think there was, and I do think it quite upset her. Tell me, will you go after the sweet girl? I am certain she would be comforted if you did."

My lips curled over my fangs in a silent snarl. How could I not…? (_I intend to speak with her later - for now, I would appreciate it if we concluded our exchange_.)

I repressed a shiver as her slender fingers, cool like snow, trailed over my form. "As you wish…," she said, and gently, with the tenderness of a lover, she pressed her mouth against my neck.

I felt her tongue lap against the fur, searching for the scar and the pulse beating beneath it…and then, upon finding what she sought, she tore open the silvery flesh and the artery it covered with her elongated canines. The pained flared as it always did, but I knew better than to move, and soon the numbing enzymes in her saliva eased the ache. Her mouth closed over the wound and she nursed as an infant might, soft at times, desperate at others, but for all the variance in the pace of her suckles, I knew she was carefully counting the ounces, measuring how much she took from my veins and calculating the sum for the ideal remainder she must reach. Once she was satisfied, she stemmed the flow with her tongue, wrinkled her nose, and then sunk her long canines into the artery. I felt but the pressure of the bite and nothing more. Yet soon a searing heat, fierce as fire, began to seep outwards from the wound, through my necks, my skull and chest, my stomach, my intestines, my five limbs – I could not stop still the faint convulsions overtaking me as the venom flowed through my system, but as the burn began to fade into a dull, icy ache, so too did the trembles. My breathing came shallow, my heartbeat slow, my mind sluggish…it was difficult to move, for my muscles seemed not to hear the commands of my mind. Yet after a few more moments, I began to regain control – my now relaxed form coiled, and feeling the tension Kaliesha closed the slice she had made with another lap of her tongue. The wound crusted over with the aid of the coagulant in her spittle, and my own healing abilities soon made the evidence of her feeding but a faint pink line of scar tissue. After a few more seconds, she murmured, "Stay still for another minute or so – I've given you a larger dose than I usually do, given how strong your symptoms have been."

She then glanced up at me and hissed, "You should have called for me sooner: the crash will be far worse this time, thanks to your unwillingness to summon me."

(…_You know why I refrained - not that it matters now, given that she has seen you. I had hoped I might be able to prepare her beforehand, but it seems that opportunity has eluded me._)

"So what will you tell her?" Her leg ran down my inner thigh, brushing the sensitive area above it….

(…_I will tell her the truth: that this meeting is merely a political one, a continuance of a truce through mutual benefits to the leader and the future leader of two powerful societies._)

She pretended to pout against my throat. "So you will not tell her the whole truth - because if you inform her of the origins of my race, you will have to hint at a truth that is a huge no-no for humans to learn. I have heard that much before, Abaddon."

I closed my eyes, feeling her breath roll over my collar. (_And you shall likely hear it again: you know well that I have no desire for the benefits of our meetings to broaden beyond a simple exchange of blood and venom. I will not take you, chimera._)

Amusement seeped from her like the fragrance of nectarines. "How strange," she murmured, "You desired that girl, and yet you do not find someone far more like you alluring: a mature adult, a creature of shadow, a near immortal…." Her fingertips trailed down my abdomen, arousing a tingling sensation to the skin beneath my pelt. Her hand soon passed my midriff-.

I jerked myself into sitting position, ignoring the sudden dizziness and the pang of nausea the action evoked, and grasped her wrists to shove them from my person. She slid out of my hold with a chuckle, rising to her knees behind me and draping her arms over my shoulders. Her lips brushed at my second neck, and feeling my shiver, she laughed with mirth. "Are you quite certain you wish me to stop, oh mighty lion?" She inquired.

Once more, I withdrew from her embrace, repressing the urges her sultry body and her sensuous suggestions attempted to invoke in me. (_Perhaps one day I will humor you…but we have yet to reach it._) I stated, slipping out of my bed and beginning to step away from her. (_Now if you would excuse me, chimera, I must find my priestess - there is no need for me to prolong her distress._)

Again, she was amused. "If I may offer you some advice before you go to her?"

I paused, listening. In a surprisingly somber voice for a devious serpent, she said, "We have an eternity, Abaddon - but an eternity without bliss is a swift and agonizing thing. Without any meaning in one's life, time erodes the soul like waves upon a rocky shore, and will lead to insanity during the repetition of empty years. I have seen my fellows corroded by the process, so I advise you, do try to enjoy yourself…otherwise, immortality is worthless if you refuse to live."

My eyes narrowed slightly, and with a quiet, dismissive tone, I said, (_We are finished here, Kaliesha. I will see you again in a few months' time._)

"Very well, Abaddon." With that, she grasped her cloak, patting its pocket to ensure that her package was secure, and left her gift for me upon my pillow as one might a luscious chocolate. With a contented yawn, she glanced at me with a single, golden eye and murmured, "Just try to keep my words in mind, would you? I would hate to think that you would ignore me, given that I am likely your only true friend in this world."

…'Friend'? When I looked back upon her to question her choice in title, I found my bed vacated: the chimera had vanished, as she always did before the moon began to rise. Shaking my head to clear it of her words, I stretched out my stiffening muscles and regulated my breathing until my bearings returned – the combination of blood-loss and the welcome poison always served to disorientate me, and I knew well that I had best regain my senses before facing my High Priestess. A "slip of the tongue," after all, would not do when dealing with her this chilled twilight. After centering myself, I began to reach out with my senses to probe the area within and around the Temple for the empress – perhaps not surprisingly, given how watching and listening to the waves calmed her, she was sitting at the beach. I took my time arriving upon the shore, for there seemed no need to hurry to her side: her emotions had quieted now, and stewing in her thoughts for a bit longer would do her no harm. When I found her, I stood next to the dune she was perched upon, and noted with some amusement how she stared fixedly at the sea, raising her chin ever so slightly and refusing to acknowledge my presence. I was determined, in that moment, to outlast her irritation, and so we remained that way for a matter of hours, neither of us willing to be the first to speak. Yet as the twilight began to fall and the horizon shifted from cerulean blue to bright oranges and yellows, to vivid peaches and rubies, her patience broke along with her silence.

"So…who was she?" She asked too lightly, too casually, trying in vain to hide her lingering agitation from me.

In a careful monotone, I replied, (_Her name is Kaliesha…and whether you believe me or not, she is my therapist_.) It was close enough to the truth.

She seemed to resist laughing bitterly – I could see her small frame tremble with the urge. And then, for the first time I could recall, she spoke to me in a tone heavy with irony: "Oh? And just what ailment was she soothing?"

…Was she using sarcasm? I blinked at her in surprise, a response she did not observe. Now I began to understand the depth of her aggravation – she was not merely intensely annoyed or even hurt by what she had seen, no, she was _angry_ over what she imagined I had done with the chimera! For a moment, this puzzled me; unable to resist my curiosity, I reached out to her with my empathic senses, trying to understand what had triggered such a response in her. Before I had arrived, I had been anticipating disgust and sorrow from her, not the fires of rage…and what I found seeping from the child instead served to alarm me. Beyond the searing heat of fury, another emotion had wrapped itself about her core, slithering within her like a wicked snake: it seemed akin to hatred, but proved not as smothering as that black emotion. Yet what surprised me more was that this mysterious feeling was not directed towards me - the chimera was its target instead. Repeatedly Arei seemed to remind herself of the memory of the dark female she had seen, and each time the python within her squeezed at her mercilessly. For a second, I pondered whether she envied the creature…but no, that did not match the feeling filling her. She did not admire Kaliesha and lust for what she believed the chimera had - such a sensual relationship with me was remote in her mind. No, what she felt was far less threatening, but equally stunning:

She was…jealous?

I doubted she could even identify what she was feeling, and it was, thankfully, not intense enough to poison her. However, it _was_ potent enough to make me uncomfortably aware of the fact that while Arei had indeed matured greatly since the summer equinox, she yet hoped to grow closer to me. My attempts to shun her, it seemed, had obviously not succeeded in discouraging her from such a course – she yet possessed her wish, and now found herself faced with the notion that perhaps I already had someone far closer to me than she could even hope to become. Such was not a welcome thought to her, though she herself seemed to bear no desire to lay in bed with me.

Presently, I began to comprehend why men often lamented the complexity of women – at times there seemed no way to appeal to them.

Sighing and purposefully ignoring the harsh bite of her tone, I attempted to convey to the female the reality of the situation. (_Arei, I have never engaged in any sort of sexual activity with that female. Do not allow her suggestive nature to fool you into believing that our close proximity meant anything...illicit._)

She snorted – the noise made me frown with displeasure. Did she not believe me? She then spat something which made me wish to snarl: "So it was just Christina then?"

The priestess seemed to regret saying it immediately, but knew quite well that she could not take it back now that it had been uttered. Closing my eyes, feeling the sand gritty and coarse beneath my toes, I murmured with distaste, (…_You know of her?_)

She seemed to gather herself up and summon from within herself the courage to spit poison at me once more. "Yes…your activities with her are not well-kept secrets."

I felt quite vexed in that moment - obviously, I would have to discuss that matter with her more fully at some other time. After all, I could not have her believing that the carnal pleasure I had experienced automatically meant that my union with that woman had been enjoyable, and hence an activity I was proud of or liable to attempt again with another. However, presently there were different waters between us that I needed to sooth. Baring my teeth at her, I snarled, (_Do you intend to snipe at me until nightfall, girl, or will you allow me to explain what you witnessed when you entered my rooms _without my consent_?_)

She became deathly quiet, and assuming that her silence equaled her affirmation, I hesitated for only one short moment before admitting to her: (…_I am very ill, Arei._)

* * *

**AREI:**

The blaze that had been stirring in my stomach extinguished as the icy shock of his words washed through me. My head snapped to the side so I could gaze upon him, causing a crick to form in my neck, and my voice rose on its own accord. "What?"

My seraph was ill...?

He stared to the west where the sun kissed the sea, making its waters blush scarlet. His face seemed sallow and gray as its lilac hue was bathed with the fiery light, and his tail lashed behind him minutely as he contemplated what more to say to me. Finally, his voice filled my mind. (_You are aware that I am a Neo-God, formed during the final millennium of the Old World from what remained of the essences of creation. However, the methods used to do so were, shall we say…_imperfect_. My Ai, the Neo-Goddess created alongside me, perished from the faults in this process…and my being, like hers, did not escape our creation unscathed. On the most integral of level, I too am…flawed._)

He twitched slightly at the descriptive, but went on regardless. (_To put my disease into a context you would understand, imagine a thin chain, each link of which has a certain purpose in maintaining the strength of the whole. Now imagine that this chain has broken links at certain points, which may give completely at any time. Obviously, the integrity of the entire chain is threatened; with but the slightest amount of trauma, it may break into countless strands, which essentially destroys the base it represents. This chain, if you will, mimics the biological foundation of my physical form, which is present in every one of my cells, and for the most part, it succeeds in what it is meant to do. It directs how the body functions, creates new tissues and fluids when necessary, and in general ensures that my life is maintained. However, like the metaphorical metal chain I spoke of, this biological base within me is weakened – and it is only a matter of time before this foundation, these strands of my being, begin to erode and unravel. My immune system, in an attempt to destroy this issue before it can begin to multiply, will attack its source – my very cells. Essentially, if left unchecked, my body will start to destroy itself._)

Spying the horror forming on my face, his expression suddenly became wry. (_Suffice to say there is no cure - the process will typically kill any inflicted with it, and so by all accounts, I should have died as Ai did before I had lived a handful of years. However, my ancestry traces back to Mew, whose race possessed the most extraordinary healing capacities imaginable. Consequently, once my system sustains a specific amount of damage, an automatic recovery system is triggered – my body restores itself to proper function within a few hours, whereas the degeneration itself takes only two months to complete._)

Absorbing all of what he had said was difficult at best, but this last statement staggered my brain entirely. "'Two months'?" I echoed faintly. How could that be? He had never showed any outward sign of illness before!

Out of the corner of his eye, he peered at me. (_Indeed – in the initial years of my life, the final collapse was considered nothing more than an influx of my powers, as stages of psychical growth, and was not understood to be a genetic condition which tormented me. As time went on, however, the constant shifts between sickness and health were enough to drive me close to madness. I sought desperately for some form of relief, and so began to dabble in an array of drugs and other chemical concoctions to find a peace that practical medicine had not provided. Eventually, I found that certain types of paralyzing snake venom had beneficial effects against the disease – constant exposure worked to inhibit the formation of new cells and proteins, which was largely the cause of the trauma which corroded my foundation (1). In the end, the solution I settled upon helped me slow the cycle down to around five months…and that reprieve goes by the name Kaliesha._)

I stared, and so he continued. (_Over the years, she has learned how to control which compounds are introduced into the venom her fangs secrete. Yes, her fangs – she is not a woman, Arei, as least not entirely. Her race, suffice to say, is a curiosity created during the Apocalypse: they are hybrids, mingling the traits of Holy Children and humans, and because of this, they have withdrawn into the seclusion of the wilds. Had they done otherwise, I am certain they would have been hunted down and judged harshly by both sides of their ancestry. As such, they keep their existence a secret from the world – for as strong as they are, their numbers are limited and do not appear to be growing. They are an endangered species, and because of the manner of their creation, I do what I can to protect them from persecution. They, in turn, are solely loyal to me, and will fight for me if the need arises. This proves a symbiotic arrangement which we value greatly, and to keep our truce solid, they send me the aid of Kaliesha, who will someday lead them. She treats my illness, and I in turn give her something which…empowers her._)

My eyes narrowed, suspicion once again seeping in. What could he possibly provide to her that could…?

He observed my uncertainty and crossed his arms behind his back, turning to face me. His eyes flashed azure once, and I felt a faint weight fall into my lap. I glanced down and found a little glass vial, about the size of a peapod, resting there. Within the glass chamber was a softly luminous fluid, which glowed the same color as his eyes did when he used his powers. As I picked it up, peering at it, he said, (_What you are holding in your hand is concentrated _aethyriene_, the hormonal catalyst which floods my bloodstream whenever I summon upon my psychic powers. When it enters my cells, it chemically reacts with a special protein they produce to create elemental energy – in my case, psychic energy.)_

"In _your_ case…?" I echoed, staring at the liquid with awe. This was the key to a God's power…?

His eyes glimmered slightly, for the first time that evening, when noting my curiosity. (_Yes. All creatures, on some level, produce _aethyriene…_even you. However, certain innate traits are required to be capable of producing elemental power. Even if you were to drink that entire vial – which I would advise against, as it is toxic in large, pure doses - you would not be able to create a spark of elemental energy, because your cells do not produce the necessary chemicals for a reaction. However, many of the Holy Children and even a rare number of humans do have this compatibility. Consequently, whenever _aethyriene _is secreted into their systems, typically during moments of extreme emotion or sensation, they will experience outbursts of power. Some of these beings will never understand what is occurring, and so do not seek a way to control the reaction; they do not connect the phenomena with themselves, and so they live in fear of it. I will admit, although using my powers came to me naturally, in my youth the fine points of control escaped me. My methods of channeling _aethyriene _developed only once I began to mature – I may now direct the substance in my body to where I see fit, and use it how I desire.)_

_(Kaliesha, too, has this ability – but her body does not produce as much _aethyriene _as mine does, and so I give her a vial of the concentrated substance which, if she rations it carefully, will last her about four to six months, boosting her abilities throughout that timeframe. Similarly, she gives me a vial of her venom, with which I do the same. However, upon occasion she and I must renew our supplies and exchange a larger and more potent dose. Typically, this occurs shortly before my final degeneration – it eases that process immensely, for which I am grateful. During the exchange, she first feeds on my blood until it is diluted to the level in which the dosage she gives me will prove most effective. This blood, for her, acts as a filter for _aethyriene_, giving her a heavy but safe elixir which, being additionally infused with a rich nutrients composition as it is, increases her powers and her stamina, as well as renders her slightly…high. Sometimes she leaves quite intoxicated_….) That thought appeared to amuse him.

But then he looked me directly in the eyes and said, quite firmly, (_What she and I have, Arei, is strictly a medical arrangement. Yes, she enjoys teasing me, for it amuses her greatly that I have lived with twenty-seven women, yourself included, and have mated with only one of them – and with that one woman, only did so once. However, she does not truly desire to lay with me – she merely entertains herself with acting the temptress, and I believe she would be most put out if she ever succeeded in conquering me. Her way of having fun is to contemplate strategies with which to win the battle, and then savor losing the struggle each time...and she would, I suspect, sorely loath ever being the victor in the war. She leaves that triumph for someone else to claim...._)

I felt…well, hearing that, I felt cowed, but also…immensely relieved. "I…I see." And to an extent, I did. It seemed at times that he may have held back from explaining the full details of the subjects he had broached…yet in general, he seemed to be speaking the truth, and appeared to relax upon doing so. Why he found such pleasure in the act, I did not comprehend then…but later, I would grasp why this was, and be grateful that he had let his guard down for me during that evening.

For a time afterwards, we gazed out towards the deepening sunset, before he spoke again, this time in a gentler voice. (_You understand, Arei, that her visiting me now means that within the next few weeks, I will enter the final stages of degeneration. When I begin to do so, I will withdraw into a chamber on our floor called the Sepulchral Room – it is a place built to contain me, for it can endure my abuse no matter how uncontrollable I may become during my descent. Once its door are sealed shut, it will remain closed for the three days it takes for my collapse to complete itself…and when this happens, please, do not attempt to go to me, no matter what you may feel in that time. You cannot help me when I am in that condition, and if you try to do so, I have no doubt that you will be seriously injured, maimed, or even killed. So for your own sake…for mine…stay far from me during those days. If there is only one command I give you which you will obey, let it be that._)

…This was the closest he would ever come to pleading to me, and in that moment I realized, finally, that he did indeed care for me. Yes, I was a scapegoat and a symbol in his regime, and yes, I realized that I would likely end up bleeding by his hands eventually. But that did not mean he wanted things to turn out that way. True, at that moment I could not tell the extent of how much the idea of my suffering bothered him, but even then I knew him well enough that I could read the small signals he gave to indicate what he was thinking and feeling…and all of them told me that he was sincere in request, as well as worried that I would not follow his demands, though I had yet to give him a reason to doubt my obedience….

So slowly, I rose from the dune and stepped towards him, touching his arm with my fingertips. "Okay - I promise."

And when the time came, I kept my word…but during those three days, I did not drift far from the room in which he dwelled. I merely sat outside the doors of the chamber, and, when no one was around to see, did something I had never done before as he howled in pain, and hence did not understand at the time:

I…cried.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I…don't think she's cried yet. If she has, I need to go back and edit it out, because it will then completely ruin the opening scene of the next chapter. But anyhow, first, _**REVIEW**_, and second, I _love_ how this turned out. I would like to point out that while most of this is told in the present tense – with the characters experiencing the scenes _at that time_ – there are moments, such as the end of this chapter, when they reminisce and hint at what is going to happen. Typically, given that Arei is the one reminiscing (check the prologue), she is the one doing this, which is why her "voice" suddenly matures sometimes. In the next couple of chapters, she will make huge leaps in her mental age before finally becoming the woman we have at the beginning/end of this story. But for now, we have a creature who is mentally a child just entering into adolescence. Hence her sarcasm, as it's a trademark of the age…in adults, it's just immature and annoying, and only to be used at fitting times (such as mocking politics, but I digress).

Anyhow, for the first time ever, since I despise them, I used a footnote. Why? Because there was no way for me to properly explain the disease in modern terms without confusing the hell out of poor Arei, who has no knowledge of cell division and DNA. Forgive me, but I just couldn't make it fit. So here is my less than clear explanation. Oh, and as for the _aethyriene_, I'm adding it to my list of Mewtwo theories, along with empathic imprinting and extensive breeding capacities, because those are just fun to conceive. Anyhow, the footnote:

(1) – As most of you should know, creating new cells require that a cell divide – the DNA strands within it will unzip and, normally, is completed when the amino acids in each of the new cells match up with the one side of the chain. What I'm suggesting here is that this process makes the DNA strands break apart when it unzips. Now, this does happen naturally in some cells in all of us – there are issues with the cell division, or a mutation forms, or something does not match up right…I could go on, but you get the idea. Typically, though, those flawed cells are targeted by the immune system and eaten, and it is all fine, because there are a thousand other cells that can take the place of those two. Yet Mewtwo's flawed cells are widespread – they begin to multiply exponentially over a period of months, faster than the immune system can keep up, and soon these cells outnumber the whole ones (since we all replace our cells every decade or so – even our bones do this, which is in part why certain scars will fade over time). By that time, it's war, and, well, it goes downhill from there. But since I cannot just have Mewtwo die, he has a recovery system which heals him back to normal…but then it starts all over again. I realize I am probably breaking several laws of nature and logic here, but…I tried, really I did, to make this illness believable. I beg you all, just go with it, because it works well for the story, and I am disinclined to scrap this aspect simply because it will lead to some notable scenes later on, okay?

Well, anyhow, thanks for reading. See ya'!

Abby


	12. From the Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon in any of its media forms, or darling Arei, who is about to become a lot more fun to follow.**

**Author's Note:** First, I apologize if this arrives a little late. I had my friends' graduation parties to attend, and was occupied with chasing a pesky plot-bunny back into its den on Friday, when I typically begin revising my chapters ("PSI" was the result of the dash, so I think that jackrabbit is done distracting me for a little while). I am certain that critter will taunt me again in the near future, but for now, I will attempt to focus on Hollow as I stated I would. Moving on to discuss this chapter itself, you will likely notice how short the blurb below the date is. Do watch out for that in the future: when I start to strip my writing style, it typically means I am attempting to beat my readers over the head with some important emotion, message, or hint. This chapter itself is likely the most notable one concerning the plot thus far, and marks the end of the first arc of this story (there are two, roughly, though the second one can be broken up into at least two sections). As well, be warned that those of you who do not understand the meaning behind the initial, italicized scene may have to dodge the grand piano I am tempted to tip onto you, since the anvil so obviously missed. That scene will probably be your biggest hint to a part of this story's ending, and I am willing to bet most of you are going to miss it because it's so obvious; just don't think too deeply into it, and you should be able to avoid wearing blinders.

Oh, and in advance I apologize if my chapters start coming every other week, as this is the last pre-written entry I have. This means that I will have to start typing out these chapters from my notebooks, which typically takes me longer than revising, as I peck at my keyboard. Mind you, I do so quickly and don't even have to look at the keyboard most of the time, but it's still pecking, and hence sluggish. As well, I have a number of other things I need to do before July (mostly reading and reviewing all the updates I ignored for the past three months), but I will try to keep a steady pace on this fic for you all, okay?

Anyhow, on with the chapter!

* * *

**- E N T R Y XI. -**

_**Date – October 30**__**th**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

_Our pasts are never completely buried: struggle with them as we might, what we seek to conceal, elude, or forget will rise from the depths of our minds and stray into the physical world, shoving into our faces what we begged God to repress. Our pasts will shriek at us to confront them and learn from them, rather than running from the sight of their marred and sordid faces. In the end, they can either break us entirely or mend us into stronger beings, and which path our souls take depends upon their strength of will: for if they cannot endure the realization that the world is not a place of goodness and purity, it will overcome them…and then shatter them. _

* * *

**AREI:**

…_His cries had hushed now…but my own, which I fought to muffle, persisted in rising from my aching throat. _

_I did not understand why my shoulders quaked and my breathing hitched in my chest, or why fluid ran from my eyes and nostrils. Wiping the liquid away with the towel that I had been given some time earlier, I sat beneath the windows near the Sepulchral Room at dusk, my spine curled over and my knees held to my chest, which seemed near splitting from the whirl of emotion it attempted to contain. The precise components of the maelstrom assaulting my heart, while vaguely familiar to me, were too well blended to allow me to distinguish them from one another. However, their combined potency drove me to vicissitudes I had only known once before, and like that disaster, they risked overtaking me and controlling my actions. Reminding myself repeatedly of the promise I had made to the God, I clutched myself as motionless as I was able, determined not to rise and attempt entrance into Abaddon's prison. Yet I could not completely still the incessant trembles gripping my frame...nor could I stop the flow of saltwater down my cheeks, and it was this oddity that I especially could not grasp. I reached a hand up yet again and brushed them away, and again peered at the moisture they left upon my skin. _

"_What are these?" I murmured this time, apparently to the twilight, for Byron and my Handmaidens had long since departed from my side. I did not blame them for their abandonment, for they had their own duties to look after, and I, they had learned, would not be moved from this place. On that count, like no other before it, I was adamant._

_However, another voice, so welcome to me after three days of its absence, bloomed within my mind in reply: _(They are tears…you are crying, Priestess.)

_Lifting my face, I discovered my seraph standing outside the doors of his tomb, which had been quietly unlocked and drawn open at his will; evidently, he had regained the use of his elemental abilities, which had previously been as degraded as his physical form. However, the act of liberating himself appeared to have drained him further, for the dark circles beneath his deadened eyes only seemed to blacken more, his posture appeared to slump entirely, and his usually strong legs quivered beneath him, his tail being employed to support his wearied frame. With a grimace, he began to stride towards me, and as he approached, he peered at me in a manner that was foreign to me. His amethyst gaze held some indecipherable emotion which I had never seen him express before…and as such, I could not name it. In that moment, myriad questions sprung into my mind, but I settled on the simplest one: "Crying…?"_

_I had heard of the phenomenon before, had mused upon it, but never before had I witnessed it, or, until now, experienced it for myself. From what I knew, crying was an act committed by humans and Holy Children as they endured an intense emotion, one so powerful that they could no longer bear to internalize it: such as overwhelming sorrow, stress, pain, or sometimes even total happiness. Yet which sensation was I feeling to cause this reaction? All three of the former seemed to have been strangling me, making it difficult to function…yet now that Abaddon was no longer in the horrible anguish he had been in, relief and joy washed through me just as forcefully as they had, making the…the _tears_ come afresh. Confusion assaulted me, and I gazed up at him for guidance once more: he had always possessed the answers to my inquiries, having failed to inform me in no single instant I could recall…._

_He then knelt, placing a paw beneath my chin; his thumb brushed away a droplet clinging to my cheek. _(…A child once told me that unless their bodies hurt, no living being will shed a tear…that, in fact, the only creatures on Earth who weep from sorrow are humans.)

_My brow furrowed from my bewilderment. Was that the feeling that dominated my soul? Sorrow…? "I am sad?"_

_(Yes, I believe so,) he said with a nod, and assisted me in rising to my feet, though my frame was stiff from sitting for so long and his shook as he did so. Leading me to my chambers, his arms looped with mine, he murmured, (It is late, Arei; you should rest. I would ask that you not continue to look after me tonight, as I must to go…elsewhere…for a time.)_

_Alarm bolted through me: I had barely seen him for a few moments after three days of solitude, and now he was intended to leave yet again? "Why?"_

_He would not look at me as he said: _(That I cannot tell you…but as it will do me no harm, and I will return soon enough, you need not worry. Regardless of it, Arei, thank you for your tears and for caring for me…though I wish you would not weep. After all, you are alive and healthy, and that is a wonderful blessing...for, as I was once told, living is wonderful, is it not…?)

…_And yet, after he had led me into my bedchamber and began to walk away, I wondered: how could living be wonderful, when the most important person in my life was forced to suffer so terribly? Gazing after him, my vision blurred once more, and I repressed the urge to laugh at myself: for, oh, what good would those tears do either of us? They could not halt the progress of the disease which tortured him, and by extension tormented me, nor could they numb his anguish; they only eased the ache in me as I had listened to him cry out beyond my reach. My tears could only meet one end: they showed him that I cared for him. Beyond that, they were senseless. Still, even knowing that truth, as I heard the door to my quarters close behind him, I asked myself whether, someday, they might be enough to stop him from leaving me so far behind…._

* * *

…As the months passed, autumn deepened across the land, setting the tone for the Festival of Reborn Souls, the largest celebration in the empire. Preparations for the event kept everyone from a moment's rest, and like the other denizens of the Temple, I shared in the efforts to make the three-day festival a success. In my case, my tasks consisted of participating in a series of ritual blessings before the eve of October: I blessed anew the sanctified artifacts that would be set beneath the moonlit skies to restore their holy energies, I blessed the streets over which the procession of wandering spirits would make the final steps of their pilgrimage, I blessed the materials used to construct vibrant costumes and decorations, I blessed the traditional food and drink that the inhabitants of my home would consume, and finally I blessed the shipments of fireworks arriving from God Rayquaza's on the thirtieth. This time, while it passed in a frenzy of color, proved one rich with excitement and laughter, and at the time I valued those days merely for the joy the hours brought. Eventually, however, I would find an even greater meaning for that momentary era: for it marked the final days of my innocence….

During that time, the military force that had been sent out to conquer the Rebels in the mountains had returned. As I would come to understand it, it had been a success and failure in equal measures, for the spies of the heretics had reached the enemy before our people had, and so the site had largely been evacuated before the militia had arrived. However, not all who had resided in the base had departed: some had remained to halt the troops, and in doing so provide further time for their fellows to escape with their illicit wares. Of those who had lingered, the option of surrender was ignored; they had battled to their deaths or committed suicide rather than become prisoners of war. Yet not all of the dissidents had eluded our forces - in the end, the militia managed to bring one of the heretics in for questioning. Stripped and kept under constant watch, he was given no opportunity to escape his guards by foot or lethal poison. Not even given clothes, for the fear was that he might smother or hang himself with them, an intelligence operative who went by the codename "Kestrel" had hence spent numerous days naked beneath the desert sun on the return trip to the capital. Beyond its burn and lashings from the guards for muttering heresies, however, he had seemingly been treated well enough, and was not anywhere near death or insanity when they entered the Temple. Having retained the clarity of his mind, he could disclose a wealth of information concerning the workings of the Rebellion, provided he could be made to speak, and hence, he could just prove a key to victory.

As he was forced to his knees in front of the seraph and me after our trip to the docks, I repressed a shudder as I noted how Abaddon's eyes narrowed into a murderous glare at the sight of the male, and tried not to flinch as the air surrounding him began to charge with the intensity of his hatred. Perhaps it was upon mere principle that the Rebel aroused his fury so, or perhaps this particular one was loathed so intently for an entirely different slight; regardless, I felt pity stir in me for the man as the Commander recounted the details of the raid to the God. Beyond knowing that he was facing certain hell, his physical state was also deplorable: the tattered cloak thrown over him to conceal his nakedness could not hide the blistering sunburn across his skin or the injuries across his back; grit and sand from the dunes was caught in his blonde hair, in the corners of his olive eyes, and ground into his already scathed flesh. For quite some time he refused to lift his eyes, but eventually he did so to peer at the God with an animosity which matched the Lord's, and then he turned his sights on me. Unashamed he openly stared, his eyes flickering over my robes and my face, lingering in spots as Craven's sometimes did - but regardless of this rudeness I held his gaze, unwilling to show weakness by breaking contact. As I did so, I attempted to imagine him without his inflictions: with clean, tan skin and honey-toned hair, and with proper cloaks adorning him. The image supplied itself swiftly…perhaps too swiftly…and feeling an edge of foreboding creeping in, I started as he winked at me suddenly, as if flattered by how I peered at him. My stomach jerked at that, and I huddled closer to the seraph, discomforted by not only the gesture, but also by the mounting sense of…of _something…_that I was experiencing.

The sensation was reminiscent of the one I had experienced with the Commander: it was as if I had seen him before, but from where? Surely not within the Temple - he could not dwell here without the Lord realizing before long that a snake had slithered into our home. Equally unlikely was the notion that I might have spied him on the beaches, for none dared approach me as I strode along them, dodging the waves. So what options did that leave me with, given that I had lingered in no other regions in the capital long enough to imprint faces into my memory…?

As Abaddon and the commanding officers openly discussed sentences for the prisoner of war, a general strode up behind the heretic, revealing evidence that the captive was indeed what he was believed to be: a high-ranking member of the Rebellion. Grasping the man by the hair, the officer wretched back his head and revealed a mark beneath his jaw: shallow, white scars joined to create the shape of a single, all-seeing eye. Only worn by those who were so proud of what they were, or so devoted to their cause, that they cared little if their identities were more easily exposed by it, this was the symbol of his group. It conveyed a sense of their beliefs as it gleamed in the light: the total, anarchistic, free will; the pursuit of justice through vengeance; the faith in some truth that only they believed. At the sight of it, Abaddon's fury only seemed to intensify, and in a reply to that rage, the general threw the heretic back down to the marble floor.

His skull made a sickening crack as it struck the steps.

Before I realized what I was doing, I stood and swept down to the prisoner, noting that he was still aware as he shifted with a moan of pain. Kneeling on the stairs before him, which were flecked with the blood trickling from his forehead, I hesitated before touching his shoulder; contact between us risked polluting the purity essential to my station, but my compassion outweighed my concern. As our eyes met, I purposefully ignored the puzzlement in his gaze: if I began questioning myself as he did with a look, my resolve would crumple, and I would not be able to do as I wished. Wordlessly I placed his arm over my shoulders and helped him to his feet and up the steps, and glancing towards the militia said: "That is enough. You may imprison this man if you wish - I will gladly give you my consent for that, for his people threaten all we are attempting to defend. However, I will not allow you to abuse him in front of me…for despite what he represents, he is still a human being. As such, I will be treating his injuries – you may fetch him after you have decided what shall be done with him."

Then to the God I turned, feeling my stomach twist unpleasantly within me as I did so. Barely capable of meeting his harsh gaze, I murmured to him, "We will be in my quarters, Abaddon. After you have finished here, and after I have tended to his wounds, you may do with me whatever you see fit...I merely ask that you refrain from expecting me to regret helping him, for that is something I will be incapable of doing."

After contemplating my declarations for a moment, the seraph stood and drew back the curtain behind the throne with his telekinesis. With fierce eyes, he glared at the man I was leading away, who suddenly laughed and stated that he was no threat to any who showed him kindness. I assumed correctly that the Lord had spoken to him in private, which he did with me as well as I flanked him. He reached out, placing his fingertips upon my arm, and growled, (_Be wary, Priestess, for you walk a fine line presently. For your own sake, do not listen to his words or allow him to touch you…and if he attempts to approach you in any malicious way, call for me. I will not allow your compassion to be cause for your demise.)_

With that, he turned away from me, dismissing us with a flick of his tail. In a slow stride, I helped the Rebel into the stairwell and up the flights of steps to the top level of the Temple. Once we entered my quarters, I led him to a chair so that I could prepare a mat of blankets on the floor for him to rest upon. As I finished, he stumbled forward and prostrated himself upon the fabrics. I shook my head, wondering at his willingness to fall on his face, and sat down beside him, carefully stripping away the cloak he was wearing. Although his flesh was bare beneath it, he did not fight me, and keeping my gaze averted from his rear, I searched for the worst of his wounds. I could do nothing to sooth the bruises adorning his flesh, but the cut on his scalp, as well as the blisters and lashes over his shoulders and back, could be worked on. Taking from my cupboards the ceramic pots containing healing ointments that the Imperial Physician had given me after my trips to the beaches, along with bandages, clean towels, and a tin of alcohol, I began to wipe away the oozing and dried blood by employing the latter two. "Kestrel" hissed at the burn, but beyond that did not move as I cleaned the injuries of grit and sand – it was fortunate for him that none of the wounds had begun to fester. Yet to be safe, I smeared antibiotic cream over them and then a layer of aloe gel, both of which I hoped would encourage his flesh to mend. I then bound him in bandages, again averting my gaze from the regions below his waist as I did so, and gave him a canteen of water laced with valerian extract – I used it some nights to fight insomnia, and I figured sleep would do him some good. Finally, I gave him a fresh set of robes, hoping that Abaddon would not mind missing one cloak, wrapped a few sheets around him for good measure, and pressed a sack of ice to the forming bump on his forehead.

Eventually, he took the cold press from me, and spoke in a rough, wearied voice, "I do not think anyone was happy with what you said, woman."

I sat back, noting the wrinkles around his eyes and the heavy crease between his brows; he seemed close to thirty, though I supposed I could well be mistaken on that count. Regardless, I replied, "It does not matter. They do not have a say in what I do, and while my god may not be pleased, I can endure his anger when it arrives."

Olive irises flashed to my face. "Your 'god'?" he echoed.

I ignored the tone he used as he uttered the term, and merely affirmed my own beliefs to him. "That's right: God Abaddon."

Faster than I had imagined he could move in his condition, his arm lashed out, his calloused fingers snatching one of my arms. Forcefully quieting the cry of alarm rising in my throat, I attempted to pull myself from his grasp, for he _should not touch me_. When finding how weak his grip was, I relaxed somewhat, for at least physically he seemed no threat to me. However…words proved another matter entirely, just as the seraph had warned me:

"He is false, you know," the heretic rasped, "Your so-called 'god' is merely a very powerful pokémon – what you call a Holy Child - and some of us wonder if he is even that."

My entire frame stiffened at this slight to my Lord, and as he further shocked me by _kissing my hand_, I ripped my arm from his hold, feeling as if his mouth had burned my skin_. _He chuckled at the reaction, saying, "Well, Ora, I thank you for your kindness: it shows me that while that creature murdered who you once were, you yet retain a heart. I am quite certain he will undo all you have done, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless."

The confusion these statements aroused in me made my pulse quicken - what was he talking about? Abaddon had not done my soul any harm; in fact, he had saved it. Furthermore, why had this man called me "Ora?" Did my appearance resemble that of another's, maybe a companion of his? Considering the physical traits typical to those residing in this region, that notion was doubtful. However, the alternative was mutually disconcerting, as it suggested that he was hallucinating, perhaps from any number of ailments. Sighing, I corrected him. "I do not mean to be rude, 'Kestrel,' but I am not 'Ora.' My name is Arei, and I-."

"No, it is not," he growled, his eyes narrowing. "'Arei' is merely the name 'Abaddon' gave you after abducting you from the life you lived. He eradicated your memories so he could mold you into his personal servant, and while you seemed to benefit in part from this, in the end he still destroyed who you were so that the birth of 'Arei' could be accomplished. He calls that process Rebirth; in my eyes, it is nothing more than mental rape and brainwash."

How surreal this seemed – like a wicked dream. I merely shook my head, refusing to believe him; he was, after all, a heretic, and a staple of their conversations was the presence of lies. "I will not accept that. He wouldn't do that, not to me-."

His horrible laughter mocked my faith. "Yes, I swear on my ancestors' graves, he would, and that would be the least of his sins! Come now, Ora, do you truly believe that the Apocalypse was some form of divine judgment? If that is so, why did billions of humans _and _the Parthenon's _Holy Children _have to perish in the floods? Why wasn't humanity the sole target of retribution?"

A snarl rose in my throat, which I did not bother to keep from being heard. "Be quiet – I do not want to hear your lies."

He seemed to bristle with anger, and in his frustration began to shout at me. "No, you simply don't want to hear _his_! You don't want to hear that the genocide of trillions of innocent lives was committed without justification - you don't want to hear that your God of Death is merely a bloodthirsty monster! You don't want to hear that he was created by our scientists over a century ago, or that he was a plaything for a tyrant, or that his master's desire for world domination was one which he adopted in his lust for vengeance and control! You don't want to hear that his selfishness drove him to engulf the world in hurricanes that ruined civilization. And for what…? So that he could form his private utopia from the ashes of our world? Of a world where we had a symbiotic relationship with our pokémon partners, where we sought to protect one another and pursue our fiercest dreams as a team? Your 'God' refused to see the bonds we shared as anything more than enslavement, even though he had been provided proof to confirm the notion! He merely did as he pleased and brought our society to ruin because that was within his power, and when his lust for destruction was satisfied, he prodded orphans to form a new one which made him and the other Legendaries into deities! He is _evil, _Ora, and somewhere inside of you, you know that, because he could not destroy your heart, no matter how he tried to make you as cold as he is!"

He…he was _mad_. Fear began to pool within me, and obeying it, I backed out of his reach as one might a rabid dog. And yet…against my will, the desperation in his words made them seep into me, planting kernels of doubt which I struggled to crush. His ranting conveyed ideas that conflicted with those in Scripture, as well as the lectures I had received from the denizens of the Temple. I had been taught that our race had abused the world until it had been on the brink of ruin, and for that maltreatment, the world had struck back to balance the equation. Destruction and death had been meted out to match the ones inflicted upon nature, and from the leveling, mutual rebirth had been achieved. Yes, God Abaddon had been the striking hand, the one whose paws had conducted the harmonization of loss, but the members of the Parthenon had supported his actions. This was fact…yet the man before me offered another take to the Winds-of-Water tale, one which meant to weaken my faith…and in part, it drove me to uncertainty. For was there not some germ of truth in every great lie…? Was there not some foundation for every belief, no matter how convoluted…? With spiking apprehension, I watched him smile up at me…and somewhere, deep in mind, so deep I could not trace its source, something clicked; another fact sprung from the darkness into light, and undermined my certainty into what was:

For I knew this man's name…it was Elijah.

_Elijah...?_

…How was it possible that I knew a Rebel's true name…? As if in reply, the mental inquiry opened a portal to the blackest reaches of my mind, illuminating glimpses into scenes I had never witnessed, and events I had never lived. These fractured recollections slyly offered me a simple explanation, and in horror of it, I shoved them back down into the shadows, unwilling to confront their haunting message. Because if I did, it would render all I knew to be false and hollow…and after only just gaining solid ground beneath my feet, I could not endure the notion of needing to flail for a foothold once more. But reality is a force beyond private hope, and it reared up into my thoughts, the catalyst of a spiritual earthquake that made the ground beneath me crumble. In a futile attempt to find steady earth, I fled from Elijah and the abhorrent things lurking in the darkness of my mind, and stumbled into Abaddon as I escaped my rooms. I clung to him, my rock, my Lord, feeling his embrace encompass me as I trembled with fear, confusion, and my desperate need to uncover which words were valid and which deceit. But even as I quivered, comprehension was sliding into place, unhindered though my entire being strove to deny it…because like all other young creatures, I wanted to shun what was unpleasant, and what I could not stand to face.

For if all that man said was genuine…_than who was I_? _Who was Abaddon_?

And from those inquiries arose a final name: a name I could not know, and a name which crucified my attempts to retain nescience.

It rose from my lips, as if to contain it scorched them: "…Are you Mewtwo?"

My soul wept, pleading: _Lie to me…please, I beg of you, convince me with a lie!_

However, the creature's gaze only widened and his muscles coiled - he did not reply. He did not declare the name a mere meaningless hiss of air; no, he responded to it in mingled shock and recognition…and with that reaction, he proved himself the fabrication I had dreaded him being. No longer did I know the male before me: my guardian was dead, and in his place, wearing his skin, was a monster who had mutilated my existence and the meaning it had held. I shoved him away, unable to bear the feel of his fur, and rasped, "He was telling me the truth, wasn't he?"

My once companion remained wordless even as I demanded an answer, even as I pounded my fists upon his boney chest, even as he took my wrists to halt my assault against his person. Voiceless, the alien ignored my shrieking, my crying, my begging him to declare that the man was lying…because I so wanted to hold onto the pleasant dream where I remained untouched, ignorant of the knowledge that the person who occupied so much of my heart was also someone who had committed unspeakable crimes. He damned himself in my eyes, morphing into a faceless stranger, becoming what he was in all actuality: the devil whom had devastated the world…and who had done such harm to me.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

…She collapsed upon her knees before me, quivering from the chaos disfiguring her soul. I knew from past experience that there was no longer any way to provide her what she yearned for, for once a truth has reawaken in the brain, it cannot be suppressed once more without damaging the vessel containing it. Her fracturing consciousness would shatter under the increased pressure of tighter bondages, and despite how I had fought with myself not to be concerned for the welfare of the female before me, rendering her mad was a crime I could not commit. My fondness cornered me as no other had in a century; it knew that the only way to silence her mental anarchy was to give it order. My sole option was to validate the words _that man_ had hissed into her ears, for my own deception was frail underneath the exposure of verity…but I hesitated, wishing to linger in the final moments when she did not loath me. In my reluctant to move forward, my reasoning mind whispered that perhaps I should allow the girl to break: there would be replacements, and no one within the empire would then know the truth….

And yet…somehow, though no shred of my soul was not already stained with sin…I proved incapable of committing that miniscule evil.

(…_Do you truly wish to know the answer to what you ask, Arei?_) For still I felt compelled to give her a route of escape, mindless that it led into the realm of delusions…for in the end, that world might prove warmer than the one in which I dwelled.

But she was no coward, and so she quieted and gazed up at me with eyes overflowing with her desperation. "Yes," she whispered. She wanted to understand.

I closed my eyes, and wondered if I, like her, now risked losing my sanity….

(_So be it, then...._)

…And in the end, she would yearn to return to the days when she danced in the gardens, savored the rain, and felt only warmth when she gazed upon me: for when people encounter terrible truths, they only wish to backtrack and restore their innocence. However, once they learn _what is_, there can be no undoing that learning; time will not rewind at their will to achieve oblivion. For like a sheet of paper, once the soul is sullied and crumpled, no force in the universe can make it perfect again, no matter what its owner may wish….

* * *

**Author's Note: **_**Please be kind and leave a review!**_Anyone who can tell me what the final line alludes to gets a cookie! Anyhow, I do not know whether I will be able to update this fic next week, as I truly do need to focus on my others tasks, but I will try to see if I can fit it into my schedule. I cannot make any promises, however. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

See ya'!

_Abby_


	13. Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, Arei, or the lyrics to the song "Truth" by Seether. **

**Author's Note:** Well, I apologize for how late this is: about a week, considering that I was supposed to update on Sunday. We will see if I can't add two updates this weekend to make up for the missing one (the other will likely be for Faint, since that is already typed up…even though revising it will be pure hell). At any rate, I have a decent excuse: we were running errands last weekend, I was working, and then I had to go in to register for college classes (first semester!). Thus far, besides the possible horror of Spanish, I am content with what I will be taking. At any rate, here is the next chapter of Hollow – it should explain the world order nicely, and fill in the gaps to the information I have already slipped to you. The one after this will be…well…extremely interesting for me to write, given that parts of it will be completely new for me. Yet I will try, and with any amount of luck, will not embarrass myself.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the chapter! It's somewhat long, given that I know the next chapter will just go on and on, so I had to put in a scene more than I originally intended – but it fits well, so on with the chapter!

* * *

**- E N T R Y XII. –**

_**Date – October 30****th ****through November 1****st****, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

"_If I gave you the truth  
Would it keep you alive?  
Though I'm closer to wrong  
I'm no further from right  
And now I'm convinced on the inside that something's wrong with me  
Convinced on the inside, you're so much more than me . . . "_

_- Seether, "Truth."_

**

* * *

**

AREI:

What do you do when faced with the notion that your waking life is but a dream, and your dreams reality? Do you embrace the newfound truth, and begin anew the process of establishing your place in the world? Do you reject it instead, preferring to wander in delusions in which you have at least found the role you are meant to play? Or do you do something else entirely, such as flee from both? I craved the answer to that inquiry, and craved for more than that: I needed to comprehend both worlds before choosing which path to take. And although I was afraid, I stood up, willing to face the shadows that Abaddon (for I continued to call him such, though the seraph was essentially a myth) offered to present to me. Inhaling with quaking lungs, dust motes burning gold as embers in the gathering dusk, I took a step forward, and with that signal, the demon turned his back on me, tail lashing, and led me away from those supposedly hallowed rooms. We entered into the cooling stairwell, the stone around us dulling to a bluish-gray hue which made the edges of the steps difficult to see. Yet I followed him without trouble – the stairs no longer challenged me as they once had.

So much had changed since then….

Abaddon's gaze flickered back to me, his irises reflecting the glow of the nearly extinguished torches in a sapphire flash. They seemed so like those of a midnight predator…. His low voice, lacking any warmth, rose in the murk. (_Before we reach our destination, you must swear to me that you will not share what you learn there with anyone. Can you do that?)_

A harsh, bitter sound tore through my throat, a mockery of laughter. "Is that not futile, considering that an entire people seem to know what you hide?"

He paused, his eyes narrowing, his expression contorting. (_Many more believe the façade - if you were to speak of their folly, no power I possess may save you. Promise me you will refrain from such recklessness.)_

My mouth curled into a wry smile; would he outright snarl if I told him I did not care? Thinking it quite possible, I decided to obey him for the time being. After all, this was between us - it did not concern the public. Then, realizing what I had just thought, dark humor twisted my grin: so our most intimate activities could be the subject of gossip, but now that the matter encompassed potential humiliation to this stranger before me, we must keep it hushed? Shaking my head, I said, "Very well - I will not speak a word of it."

He faced forward, his paws clenching, and descended into the gloom. (_Then follow me.)_

As he drew away, I quickened my steps in pursuit. What else could I do? Now that the fantasy I had placed my faith in had been snatched from me, I needed something, _anything _to give my world order, to give me more than a false name, whispered heresies, and nightmares to build upon. In the dim, we reached the bottom of the staircase…and there, the psychic shocked me by lifting a heavy block of mortar from the stonework floor. I leapt back, barely smothering a cry of alarm, and stared with wide eyes as the slab began to levitate upwards. Thicker on all sides than Abaddon was tall, had his telekinesis not proven so powerful, it would have been impossible to lift from its setting. It scraped against the stones around it, bits of grit draining from its sides as it was carried high into the air. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Abaddon motioning me towards the gaping pit beneath it, and edging closer, I saw that the stairs continued to descend into what seemed like the heart of the world. A faint, fiery light even glowed from its depths, like magma threatening to engulf those who dared trespass into the realm of the divine. For a vague moment, I contemplated whether this creature was guiding me into Hell for learning his edicts were false. Was a lifetime sentence in purgatory to be my fate for slighting him? As he demanded that I descend, I closed my eyes and braced myself for what may come, and did as instructed. Again, what else could I do…? He followed behind me, and with that horrible scraping sound the stone slid back into place above us. All light, beyond that which glimmered beneath us, was abruptly drowned out. I hesitated in that fresh darkness, and in that pause, the male flanked me, passed me, and then flicked his wrist. On the wall beside the staircase, golden orbs lit up like miniature suns, though their glow was not as blinding. Between them, black ivy laced, and as Abaddon growled again for me to keep up, I staggered forward, feeling my mind spin. Too much, too fast…and if this was merely a stairwell, what awaited me at its end? The farther we descended, the more my surroundings became alien: stonework smoothed, shifted in texture and color, glinting in the light and slick as ice. Was it metal, ceramic, or something else entirely…? My brow furrowing, I focused instead on the stranger's back…and in doing so, did not realize at first when we hit bottom.

Yet when we strode from the stairwell and into the chamber of fiery light, my concern for him faded…for herein rested another of his secrets.

The scarlet glow came from tanks filled with a ruby, luminescent fluid, in which floated fleshy…pale…I felt the blood drain from my face…_what were those pale_ _things_…? With a shudder, I ripped my gaze away, not wanting to gain insight into their identities. Thankfully, as the ceiling above us flashed with white light, I was able to occupy my eyes with the features of and the items in the chamber, which was as broad a space as the foundation of the Temple above. Under my bare feet, the floor shimmered like wet ink, being made of the same dark material as the walls. Through the middle of the glossy surface ran a thick pane of glass, beneath which water flowed. At the mouth of the captured river, a…what was it called?…a _turbine_ similar to those in my texts droned, the noise prevalent in the sounds filling the chamber. Also inlaid were the gurgles from the tanks, the hum of vents from which fresh, cool air was delivered, and an assortment of clicks and hisses from the other machines in the room. Glancing at the distant wall to my right, I saw it packed with shelves: lining them were dusty texts with yellowed pages, and transparent containers holding flat objects, some circular, some square, some tiny and rectangular. Steel chests beneath them held unknown items, while upon tables were littered countless silver instruments, whose purposes I could scarcely imagine. To the far wall to my left was a conveyor, which was still, and above it a vast, flat sheet of black glass – but within a second of my eyes falling upon it, the surface burst into light and color, and a foreign text scrolled down its surface. I jumped back, staring at it without comprehension, and heard the monster speaking to me.

_(Around the globe, there are many chambers such as this one. Each room, buried far beneath the feet of the common man, houses technology and resources supposedly "lost" when the Industrial Era was brought to its violent end. Of these factories, all but one is run by computer programming – rather, sophisticated machines keep them in order, rather than either humankind or…pokémon,_) he seemed to hesitate over the word, but eventually spat it out, and continued, (_The items produced in each chamber can be instantly transferred to another region via teleportation transits, much as pokémon held in their containment spheres were when the TTB Circuits, devoted to the training, trading, and breeding of those creatures, were still in place. While the objects being transported now are different, and these machines modified for the purpose of the Legendaries, they are nonetheless essential to making your society function…and I am likely the only creature capable of understanding them in this age.)_

My gaze fell onto the conveyor - a door was beyond it, near the screen. Of course…it must lead into another room. How large was this place…? "So you make stuff here?" Given that I had no idea what the product might be, "stuff" would have to suffice…though I had the sneaking suspicion those _pale things_ might have something to do with it….

_(Yes; this is the largest producer of advanced medicines and contraceptives we possess, although as you can see, it is also used as a storage facility for old texts and various scientific studies,) _he stated, gesturing to the library. (_Which is ironic, as the system that has been erected is one which does not condone such heretical ideals. The Industrial World, after all, was nearly our destruction. Why harbor its technologies and philosophies, which could be our undoing, in the very heart of our society…? I will admit, if not for the miracles they promise, I would have destroyed them all decades ago, although my curiosity would permanently lust for them once they are gone.)_

He stated this casually, as if speaking of something no more serious than a chest of broken toys, which were clung to even though they possessed the potential to injure someone who might accidently stumble over them. Here lay vestiges of the Old World, the remnants of which the Rebellion had latched onto, like children unwilling to sacrifice the blankets of their cradles. If they discovered these chambers, which contained the seeds of the previous millennium, then what…? Would they have justification and the means to rebuild the past? How foolhardy this was, and how hypocritical of the Parthenon: they claimed to despise the civilization before the Winds-of-Water, and yet here they were, clutching at its remains and manipulating them as they saw fit. How were they any better than those who had and were hunting them down…?

I felt weariness wash over me at how fickle and childish they all were…and for the first time in my memory, I felt…_old_.

Abaddon continued to speak, seemingly unaware of my sudden exhaustion. (_Does this curiosity surprise you, though, Arei Dovasary? After all, it proves such a potentially lethal pitfall, does it not? Yet I cannot help my craving for understanding. After all, your race made me what I was, and as such, I feel the need to discover what drove them to their demise. They brought me into the world for entirely selfish motives: for the knowledge of how to undo death and for the power of a God. I was made by your geneticists – scientists who sought to control the very fibers of life – to be the perfect soldier, a monster capable of maiming and murdering with a stray thought. With that purpose in their minds, along with the experiments they intended to subject me to, what is any wonder that I, a sentient as they were, turned against them?)_

He spoke in rhetorical questions, as if he already knew all of the answers…which, considering the world I lived within, was readily apparent. Yet still he asked them. Did he hope that I might declare that, for the arrogance of his makers, his betrayal was justified? I could give him no reply, for I had none. There was no justification: not for those humans, and not for him. He went on to explain, (_They formed my body from genetic material locked inside a petrified hair, sculpting the biological code as though from clay. Although my predecessor was supposedly an immortal and second only to God in power, they desired to "improve" my design...and so they did. Along with me, they created four others, each similarly changed: a Bulbasaur, a Squirtle, a Charmander, and a little girl named Ai, who had originally died in a car crash, years earlier. We were clones, copies of true beings…and though we bonded because of what we were, one by one, the others perished, and our group fell into nonexistence. I was the sole survivor…and as I stated before, the world I was born into, and the humans I was forced to confront upon my awakening, were monsters of another sort. They dared to tread upon sacred ground, dared to grasp divinity through their unholy pursuits, 'all in the name of science.')_

…Later on, weeks from this moment, I would sit in this place and read of the procedures he was referring to, for after this, his hiding anything from me would prove pointless. In addition, it was probable that giving me the keys to the past was a relief for him, for no longer would he need to lie and keep up appearances. He could be known by someone who did not hate the very air he exhaled, did not hate the very ground he stepped over…and if that individual must exist, why not allow it to be me? After all, I wished for knowledge, and I, if gaining it, might still care for him in the end. Yet if that hope shaped his motives, I could be certain that all the while, he worried that what I found would make me come to despise him too….

But in that moment, I listened…I could do nothing more than that.

(_After I awoke, as bewildered as you were during your first morning,) _he stated, bringing to my mind the images and sensations of that dreadful dawn, (_I was told of my purposes and of my status immediately. I was to be a laboratory specimen…it mattered not that I could speak in their tongue, an intellectual and emotional equal to them, a young man in all ways but in body and ability. Yet to them I was an animal who served the purpose of satisfying their lust for knowledge…and being treated as such an inferior being, I was filled with rage. My anger triggered the release of aethyriene, my psychical energies flared, and in my fury, I tore apart the facility and its human occupants.) _A thin, wry smile curled across his muzzle, as if in dark humor or guilty pleasure at the memory. Yet it fell as the following recollections flooded his mind. (_After they were overcome, another man approached me, offering me what I desired: control over my abilities, my life, and an alternative purpose to my existence. I knew not that he had ordered my makers to form me, nor did I realize that he thought me an addition to his private army, a slave fooled into believing itself free. My empathic abilities, which had taught me so much in sleep, had long since faded by the time I reached maturity. Yet eventually I was informed of what I was: his plaything,_ _used to do his bidding. So again, I rebelled, but this time left to make my own purpose in life.)_

_(And can you guess what I chose, Arei? You are a clever female, so I am certain you can arrive at the obvious conclusion,) _he stated, peering at me out of the corner of his left eye.

He was right. I knew. "You chose to pursue revenge, didn't you?"

He smiled, but it was not a kind smile. (_Correct. Suffice to say that at every turn, I had found a new reason to nurture hatred for your kind and the creatures who allowed themselves to be enslaved by them. I hated the way humanity played with the power of the pokémon, who in their naivety did little to resist their bondage and even assisted in the capture of their fellows. I likened what I witnessed to children playing with their father's gun - a gun which reloaded and fired on command. Was it any wonder that this senseless game resulted in their deaths, given that they were looking down the barrel as they fingered the trigger?)_

…No matter how befitting the analogy might be, it disgusted me. I stared at him, trying in vain to find the being I had so adored…but he seemed to have disappeared along with my faith. Perhaps that was all he had been: a construct of a hopeful heart, an ideal creature which, by definition, could not exist in reality. For a moment, grief welled up within me, but I smothered it, unwilling to let it overtake me. He was not worth my sorrow, for he was just as arrogant, naïve, and manipulative as the beings he described, wasn't he…?

"So you acted as the bullet and mutilated the brainpan of humanity, is that it?"

He seemed surprised, even amused at the declaration, and nodded my way. _(That is quite the appropriate conclusion. In my desire for vengeance, I built a facility on the island of my birth and lured pokémon trainers to my shores. Once cornered, I cloned their slaves as I had been created from Mew – for surely you comprehend from my name that her race was my ancestral one also? Afterwards, the copies and the originals fought for dominance - even I had an opponent. That night, I met whom you know as Goddess Mew for the first time; she was still so pure in heart…. But in the end, neither side won the battle. Instead, a human child gave his life to end the fighting, for he valued all of us equally and was incapable of watching us spill each other's blood. His sacrifice, as much as his miraculous resurrection, shocked me…and to this day, I am not fully certain I comprehend the emotion that led him to be so bold. However, it shifted my viewpoint on the world, taking the sting from my rage….)_

He trailed off, as if uncertain about continuing…but my confusion made me motion for him to go on, for if the edge of his fury had been tempered, then why had the world been engulfed in storm and fire…? Why, if peace were on the verge of being realized, had genocide followed the selfless act of that nameless boy…?

He paused, as if unwilling to say what happened next…but after a beat, he informed me of what I sought to know. (_However, even seeing what that child had done, I was…uncertain. I could not easily forget how I had been abused by mankind, first by the scientists, then by the demon Giovanni, nor could I dismiss how one of those children had led his pokémon to their deaths in his attempt to reach me. Furthermore, there was the reason they had come to my island. They had journeyed there to gain glory through violence, through forcing the creatures they owned to battle until incapable of crawling. They were cruel and dangerous, and they were but a sample of humanity, a taste of those supposedly _innocent_ in nature. If _they_ were so corrupted, surely their elders were worse? And indeed, they were, for they had created weaponry that could destroy the world countless times over upon a whim, and even while they worked in harmony, their lifestyles consumed and polluted the Earth faster than the Earth could heal itself. I could not ignore the instinctual fear and dread that pervaded me at the thought of allowing them to continue on their way without interference. They warred daily, and if they continued on the path they were on, their persistent self-destructive tendencies would bring the world down with them. I found I could not give up my beliefs in their evil, even seeing an example of their goodness….)_

He closed his eyes. _(…So I decided there needed to be a change. I would not still the storms I had created to test the prowess of those children – I would intensify them. I persuaded the planet to wage war against the species which was slowly leading it to its death, and as Mew was no murderer, she could do nothing to stop me. She, like the children I allowed to linger on my island, could only watch as I continued the work of eradication, of a genocide your race declared the Apocalypse foretold in scripture. The Winds-of-Water had returned in their eyes, in a great flood that drowned trillions, both human and pokémon alike. Your people were forced to abandon their cities, which crumbled as they fled, and in the process, they left behind their technologies, their advanced knowledge, and their hope. In the initial years, some of the wild ones took pity upon the emigrants…but as the decade went on, desperation drove them to hunt your kind down as well, if only to retain the means to survive. After all, humanity mimicked a virus, consuming and fighting over resources wherever they fled…and if the pokémon wanted to live through the storms, they needed what mankind sought to steal from them. They warred under nature's wrath, and in the end, both sides lost vast numbers…but humanity dwindled by a far greater stretch, for its members knew not how to endure as the wild ones did. It was chaos…and once the sun shined again at last, your race numbered around fifty thousand: less than one percent of what it had once been. Of the survivors, a majority of them were those who were deemed innocent…in other words, children, still young enough to be molded into whatever an authority saw fit.)_

_(And do you know what authority they looked up to, Arei, when all others had failed? They prayed to the divine, and as the storms calmed, their prayers were answered. Oh, no, do not look at me – I certainty had no desire to give them what they sought! No, by that time, Mew had rallied her fellow Legendary pokémon to her side and together they forced me into submission. With me in that state, I could not stop them from quieting the gales. Yet all the same, the children of humanity took this sudden calm as a sign, for there were witnesses to the struggle that took place. In their eyes, their old God had abandoned them…but these creatures had overpowered the seraph of destruction, had answered their pleas. And so almost overnight, they began to worship the new deities – and the Legendaries, realizing this, were perversely pleased. After all, thousands of years prior, they had been revered as they now were…and understanding that this meant that, at last, they were free to wander the world as they wished, no longer to be persecuted by those humans who lusted for their power, they began to carefully educate and cultivate that first generation into their followers. While it took a matter of years for humanity to settle, to establish a new order, they did so in time, to my and the Legendaries' delight. Mew, however…well, she was the only one who scorned the development, but as she was outnumbered, she reluctantly followed our lead.)_

Seeing him slipping into reminiscence, I prodded him on: "Is there more?"

He nodded._ (Yes…but you already know much of it. Naturally, humanity had to rebuild, and so they took pilgrimages to the ruins of their abandoned cities to gather supplies to reestablish society. And naturally, among them were those who remembered or learned the truth, including the trainers who had spent ten long years on my island, living by my good graces. These individuals gathered - few though they were - and formed a revolt against the new order, just as they had during the Apocalypse itself; for they were among those who had clung to their old ways and created the Chimeras. They had meddled with life again, mixing human and pokémon genes to create scouts, who would have, ideally, explored the wilderness and brought back supplies, for they had the abilities of their pokémon ancestors, and, their creators had hoped, loyalty to their human parents. Yet the Chimeras would not be manipulated. They left their creators to fend for themselves, and found a place in which they could reside and endure until the storms passed. And once the Winds-of-Water ended, it was too late for Mew to reverse the damage. Her only chance would have been the Time Traveler, Celebi, and I had already insured that his intervention was taken out of the equation. Thus, we all were made to continue on the path we were on, rebuilding, reworking, and regressing into war to this very day.)_

And he stared forward, ever forward, not daring to look back….

**

* * *

**

MEWTWO:

I would not turn to gaze into her eyes; instead, I settled on staring into nothingness, for at the very least, the void proved empty of malignancy. Her orchid eyes, in contrast, if I dared to peer into their depths, could contain an infinite number of cancerous emotions. Which would I see if I met her gaze…? Would they hold the black miasma of hatred, the scorching burn of rage, the slicing chill of horror? Would she view me as little more than a devil now, a serpent to be crushed underfoot, so akin to what Christina had viewed me? After all, she now knew far more than even that woman had grasped, for never had I disclosed my secrets to the late High Priestess. I had confided in this female more than I had conveyed to anyone in decades…and although I had told her all of what she sought to know, I still did not disclose every detail of those hellish years to her. I did not tell her about how my family of fellow clones had splintered as time had passed, how some had departed to become leading figures in other parts of the world…or how some had sided with those they had once fought. Traitors to their own kind, they were all long since dead…and some, I remembered, had died at my own hands….

No, of this atrocity I would not inform her. She need not know that, in a way, I was the murder of my own children. She need not know, in addition to all of the other reasons she might find me despicable, the crime which filled my soul with bitterness and self-loathing whenever I remembered their blood staining my pelt, unable to be washed away….

She need not know that being the death of the creatures I cared for was my only regret in my violent life….

Tearing myself from such contemplations, I glanced upon Arei Dovasary once more, shifting my thoughts into interest in her response. She stood stiffly, her breathing the only indication that she was not entirely petrified, though her eyes were glazed and sightless, much as those of one rigid with death. Her aura, previously chaotic, was settling…and she looked up, her gaze focusing, and murmured, "…You have wanted to say all of that for a long time, haven't you? I don't think I have ever heard you say so much at one time before."

Her words startled me. Of all the reactions I had expected, a thoughtful observation was not one of them. I had believed she might begin with a snarl, as Mew would have, and then begin to shriek at me, to curse at me, to lash out at me for the countless lives I had taken. Yet now she wondered aloud if I had not been yearning to confess well before this night, for someone sanctified to listen as I recounted my sins. A breath escaped me, and relief, though I knew not how this conversation would progress, began to seep throughout my muscles and bones. Still, I must say it: (_Nevertheless, tell me, what do you feel for me now? Do you hate me, Arei?)_

As I had spoken, I had also stepped towards her, closing the distance between us until we were but a foot apart…and my arm easily bridged that space as I reached forward, placing my fingertips beneath her chin. She shivered but remained motionless, and replied, "I know I should. What you did was unforgivable, heinous, and it sickens me…but I do not think it touches me as it does the Rebels. How can it, when the truth is just another part of a story, and the innocents slain faceless? What you did happened well before I was born, and I…until now I felt no discontentment with the world you helped fabricate, because I believed the lie it was founded on."

…Her honesty astounded me, and I felt my eyes widen as I listened to her words. She did not care…? For essentially that was what she was telling me: it mattered not to her that I had committed mass murder, and that I had made the world regress several thousand years, because in her eyes it occurred well before her time and had resulted in something that, while she had been ignorant, she had appreciated. I had believed…but before I could continue the thought, her expression darkened and she pulled away from my touch. And for the first time, her eyes were…_cold. _Her voice quavering, she said, "Yet if what you say is true, then…you've confirmed what Elijah said. And in addition to all of…this," she gestured around the room, to the objects held in the vault of the past, "that means that what you did to _me - striping me of who I was - _must _also_ be true. Am I wrong…?"

Though I desired to disagree, I could not deny it…and noting my silence, she dropped her gaze to our feet, perhaps to hide forming tears from me. "I see," and there was genuine mourning in her voice. Swallowing it down, she said, "So now I know the truth about this world…but what about me? You - you _stole_ my memories from me, and I cannot even pretend to know if it is better that way. After all, if I don't remember my previous life, then I cannot remember the potential suffering I might have endured then. Yet that notion does not excuse you from the results of your actions: thanks to what you did to me, I will never know who I truly am, and furthermore, I will never have a choice in the life I lead! You took those gifts from me…you took _everything_ from me…!"

She inhaled a deep, shaky breath, and seemed to still the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "And for that crime, I cannot forgive you, Abaddon…and maybe once I can fully comprehend the extent of your other sins, I will be unable to forgive you for _them_ as well."

…It was not what I had anticipated, this calm acceptance mingled with warning, this mature yet chilling reaction which most adult humans would not have grasped. She looked up at me with old eyes then, and the hurt and accusation in them was as wicked as a whip cracking across my back - it stung just as much upon the realization that I had caused her to change in this way. No longer did she shine brightly; the glory of her innocence was dimmed, and I mused that in that way, we were alike: our youths both sullied by tragedy….

With a nod, I murmured, (_Very well, Arei. And while I cannot help you to discover your origins, I will do for you what little I can: you may use this facility to see the extent of what I have done, and perhaps, once seeing the results, you may pass your judgment on me. For now, however, I would recommend that you attend the celebration. Consider more than simply the perspectives of my enemies and me, but those of the people you are meant to lead as well. As for myself…I will await your decision on how we shall move forward.)_

Gesturing her back to the stairwell, we strode from the chamber, the lights flickering off behind us. Sometime soon, I would show her the longer, alternative route into these chambers, so she could enter them at her leisure; for the plateau which cradled this vault also contained countless catacombs surrounding it, which proved useful if one knew the paths through the labyrinth. I would teach her how to navigate them…among other skills, given that now that she knew the truth, she must learn how to defend it as well. As we made our way up the steps, emerging from the underworld and ascending towards the pinnacle of the Temple and to our chambers, I paused outside of hers, peering within: the "Kestrel," that wretched, treacherous…well, no matter…he was unconscious, and hence utterly harmless presently. I would remove him from her rooms once he began to stir awake; since I doubted I would be able to sleep tonight as he did, I would be well aware of the moment when he emerged from the Court of Morpheus. Yet in the meantime, I would return to my quarters, away from the girl - no, the woman…. But before I did so, I said this:

(_I do not seek or expect your forgiveness, High Priestess…but I do hope you will spare me your hatred.)_

I could admit nothing more than that; having spent the past hour draining both my spiritual and psychical energies, I was worn, and so I left Arei Dovasary to her thoughts and the slumbering heretic. Once I had fallen into my own bed, I stared out the window as the black sky…and in the depths of my mind, I wondered if that female could accept that the creature she had once cherished was a monster. And if so, was there any chance that she could still harbor a hint of warmth at the sight of me…?

Or had I…_once again…_frozen her beautiful heart…?

**

* * *

**

AREI:

…The following day, the Festival of Reborn Souls erupted in the streets. Without the knowledge of the revelations lurking in my mind, the blindfolded people continued the traditions they so dearly cherished. On the opening morning, I watched the celebration with a heavy feeling of irony: to me, this had become a twisted joke, for the society before me – being built upon a falsity – seemed a mere reflection of a true culture. A part of me, repulsed by the sight of it, yearned to scream in outrage, to scream the truth into my surroundings so I would not be forced to contain it…but I knew I could not, I dare not, least I break my vow to the creature who had once been my god, and least I be condemned a heretic for speaking such undesirable ideas. Instead, I bit back the burning words, feeling my spirit darken with cynical humor, and as frustration mounted within me, I took Abaddon's advice: I departed from the Temple to join in the festivities.

Of course, I would not be allowed to do such alone; Attendant Byron accompanied me, and realizing that he yearned to spend time with his family, I consented to spending the day with them as well. His mother, a small woman with his hair and eyes, and his little sister – Amelia - whose curling ginger hair fell nearly to her buttocks, bowed to us as we arrived, before straightening and embracing the young man. To me, they offered wide smiles and heartfelt welcomes, and after a few minutes of chatter, the child grasped my hand and led me out into the streets, with the others following close behind. She showed me the decorated booths and introduced me to the vendors she knew, and soon enough she begged her brother for coins with which to purchase some of the traditional candies: Haunters, Duskulls, and other spectral Holy Children made of sugar, drizzled with honey and colored with frosting, as well as spiced "Will-O-Wisps" made of sweet bean paste, and finally apples dunked in caramel, brown sugar, and peanuts. Thankful for the extra basket Bryon's mother had brought for me, I placed the treats within it, occasionally savoring the desserts they insisted on buying for me. After all, a High Priestess possessed no money - she had no need for it, since gifts would be given to her freely. However, because I was garbed in a concealing cloak to avoid potential mobs, I was trying to avoid flaunting this benefit in public. No need to draw attention when I was, right now, barely distinguishable from the other citizens, and so allowed to roam among them at my ease. Yet even as I began to lose myself in the frivolity, my laughter ringing with the excited child's, the amulet beneath my robes was a cool reminder of what awaited me when I returned to the Temple. I tried to forget it by playing festival games with Amelia: plunging willing citizens into vats of diluted wine by successfully hitting the target with a stone; tossing a small hoop around cups to earn their fizzing, liquid contents; attempting to bounce a hollow ball into one of a series of pots to win the little toys within them. That first day passed swiftly, and ended with district dinners for all to attend, though at midnight everyone returned to their homes to leave out offerings to the spirits on their porches. Surprisingly, none of the children were caught sneaking about afterwards to snitch the treats and honeyed milk left out – while the Holy Children, on the other hand, did, but this, I was told, was perfectly acceptable.

Once the morning arrived, gray and quiet, we were called to wakefulness by Byron's father and uncle, who lifted Amelia and her cousins to their feet gently; neither of them touched me, however, given that they were unblessed men. Yet I rose after the group, gathering bunches of orange flowers in my arms and participating in the annual procession to the memorials. This year, as in the countless years before it, the names of those who had died within the past twelve months would be added. Since cremation was the funeral of choice, there existed no individual graves for this purpose. Not even the hallowed ones, the High Priestesses, were given separate headstones. After all, wouldn't a lingering soul be lonely if kept apart from the others until these days, when the journey to the Temple and rebirth would commence…? That was not to say the bones of my predecessors were mingling with those of regular civilians – no, like other factions, they had their own tomb to rest in, their ivory remains bundled in blessed palls while their ashes were scattered into the sea. Given that the remains of the late Kara, Byron's oldest cousin and the High Priestess before me, resided there, we visited the tomb after travelling to the memorials in the other districts. There, feeling a sense of the surreal filling me, I left a majority of the flowers I carried. The mausoleum was simple compared to the Temple: thick stone slabs formed a grand, elongated cube of granite, with polished marble as its base, and its entranceway a gaping space stretching upwards and wide enough to allow five people to cross through it without brushing its sides. Once within, visitors would travel down a hallway, whose walls and ceiling – protected under sheets of crystal - were painted with images of the heavens and its denizens. Finally, upon the back wall were the names of those who had come before me, and beneath the list was a grand, rectangular sarcophagus lined with precious metals, with fire permanently burning in braziers on each of the shorter ends. Within it rested the bones of twenty-six women…and when I perished, my bones would be added to the collection.

It felt…strange. My heart twisted, and it was hard to breathe.

This would be my fate. This was where I would be….

…Suddenly, I did not want to be in this place. Although I knew rushing away would be rude, my growing discomfort outweighed my ability to endure, and so with a hurried prayer, I lit the incense I had brought, bowed, and departed. After several more minutes, Byron's family joined me outside and, singing hymns, led me back down into the celebration. At times, they spoke of Kara as a child and as a teenager (though it took me a while to understand they were speaking of her, given they called her by a different name), but they never discussed her as a woman. Was it because, in their eyes, she had died once she had become a High Priestess...? That must be it. Gazing at them, I wondered if there was anyone in the capital who would travel to that mausoleum to offer _me_ a prayer, not as Arei, but as…? The thought made me smiled wryly; perhaps the "Kestrel" would: after all, he thought he knew me. Perhaps, someday, when I was brave enough, I would ask him about his "Ora"….

Yet for now, I would occupy myself with other tasks. With the Attendant's family, I followed the traditions of the festival, setting up candles and helping prepare their feast, and once we settled down at the table, listened as they offered prayers to…Abaddon. Aggravation billowed up inside me, barely capable of being suppressed. _Abaddon_…? He was a lie! Tonight he would not allow the spirits entrance into the Temple, whose grounds they now supposedly haunted, nor would he lead them to the Gates of Rebirth. Tomorrow they would not rejoin the living in new bodies, because he was a-.

Grace ended, and as the dishes were passed around, Amelia looked at me curiously and asked, "Priestess Arei, why don't you pray to God Abaddon like we do?"

My aggravation only swelled, and saving me from an inappropriate outburst, the adults at the table shared an amused look, and Byron's mother said, "Amelia, the High Priestess Dovasary has no need to pray to our Lord. She may speak with him directly, as she has his favor. Isn't that right, my lady?"

And now I would be _forced_ to talk…how _wonderful!_ Seeing their expectant gazes, I pressed my lips into a thin line, and then did as I must: I humored them. "Indeed." Short, to the point, and not enough to risk giving away my agitation; it would have to do.

They smiled at me, and then, almost shyly, the older woman whispered, her tone warm, "You know, my lady, Byron finds it quite endearing how close you are to the God. He claims it's very sweet to watch-."

"Mother!" The Attendant blushed as though she had said I was intimate with _him._

My mouth twitched as if to frown, but forcing a weak smile instead I poured myself tea and replied, "I suppose the seraph and I are close…at the very least, I know him better than myself, and more than many could claim." And that, at least, was not a lie.

A few hours later the evening concluded, and we each settled down into our beds for rest. Unlike them, however, I remained dreamless long into the short hours of morning, listening to the wind, which carried hints of smothered laughter, sobs, and discussions from throughout the house and the streets outside. I realized then why the monster had suggested that I mingle with the people during these days, for now I had discovered another truth: they were happy. In their ignorance, they possessed a sort of peace and joy that I could never hope to regain, for I was not blinded by untruths…and as such, that meant that I was irrevocably set apart from them. Perhaps this was why a priestess was said to receive Rebirth: for when she is chosen, her old life is extinguished and she becomes someone else - a creature born from a lie. As that realization shook me, sorrow filled my chest, for abruptly I understood: in the end, even if I learned who I had been, I could not be her again. Now that her experiences were erased from me, that person was gone…and so Ora, if that had been my name, was truly dead. I was Arei now…and perhaps, because my soul was a remnant of hers and further sculpted by _his_ hands, I was as much of a fabrication as the face of this world. Yet regardless, Arei I would remain, even if this identity _was_ false.

For I must continue to grow and change – for life would only become more complex from this moment forward, and I must be prepared to meet it….

And so hours passed in which rest, daybreak, lights, music, all found me, and then at last _he _called for me and I returned to his side….

With my eyes wide open.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hm, I think I have some explaining to do, but before I get into that, let me remind you: _**please review!**_ That is the kindest gift you can give a writer, whether it possesses glowing praise or constructive criticism, for in both ways they prove useful. Plus, if you point out plot holes, I can go back and make the story better by filling them.

At any rate, on with my notes: first, Mewtwo and Arei don't love each other, not romantically at least. No matter how much it _seems _like that, we are not there yet! Second, we have Arei's memories. Arei, right now, is assuming that Mewtwo cannot return her old experiences to her; she does not realize he placed a mental barrier in her mind, but believes he erased her memories entirely. As such, she feels she can only learn who she was through second-hand information, so, as she said, she cannot become that person again because she is now detached from those events. Third, you probably noticed a variety of cultural tidbits in the celebration itself; honestly, I am mixing traditions shamelessly. From the top of my head, I snitched from Mexico (I did not take Spanish for most of high school years and learn nothing) and Egypt, and then added some Halloween, Christian, and Eastern features for good measure. I will most likely continue dabbling in the next chapter, which finishes this celebration off. Hopefully I don't offend anyone by doing this, as celebrations of the dead/ancestors fascinate me. If I made a mistake about something, though, tell me. Of course, despite having a foundation on current holidays, this celebration _is_ a work of fiction, so…well, no matter. Finally, I took some inspiration from The Matrix, Battlestar Galactica (2003 version), and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind in this chapter. Forgive me, but science fiction classics love to find their way into my work.

Well, with any luck I will be back next weekend with…something. (Grimaces at potentials.) Have a good day!

Sincerely,

WiseAbsol


	14. Make Love and War

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, the original character Arei, or the lyrics from the song "Topless" by Breaking Benjamin.**

**Chapter Warning: **This chapter of Hollow includes a character performing cullingus (oral sex to a female). Those who are under eighteen years of age and/or not mature enough to handle this appropriately should either: A.) Not read this particular chapter or B.) Simply skip past said scene. You will have enough warning to avoid it if you so chose. Personally, if this discomfort applies to you, I would still recommend reading the rest of the chapter, given that what is discussed by the characters here has a large impact on the plot.

**Author's Note:** I daresay I will likely resort to the above method of warning simply because readers are far more likely to notice it, since I doubt many people actually read author's notes (I know I typically never do unless there are bolded or italicized words). In regards to the scene I referred to, yes, after hearing the opinions of a few readers, I decided to try writing it – "try" being the key word, given I have never done such before, at least not explicitly. As such, this means I am extremely close to my limit in this kind of field, so I am praying I do not mess it up somehow and look the fool, because I do not think I could live down the humiliation. However, I will attempt it, as it fits this particular chapter by far more appropriately than traditional sex. Although, I have to admit, the sex here seems completely random to me. Typically, I build up a relationship between the characters until the only place left to go is the physical, and here that is not the case. I daresay that while these two are having inklings of romantic feelings, they are not even close to the…soul-bonded point, I suppose I will call it, as say, the main couples in The Phoenix Rose Saga and in Angelic Shadows. However, in a way I feel this may be more realistic, because, as I have been told by one reader, the best sex is random. So we will just go with this, shall we?

Now as I stated in the warning, this chapter is integral to the plot - and not because of the sex. In fact, as we head into the later chapters of Hollow, sex, which I typically like to hold up on a pedestal as an act to be treated with utmost respect, becomes extremely casual, even largely detached of emotion. For the most part this is due to Arei's previous occupation; those who don't remember what I am referring to should go reread the prologue. Regardless, this chapter is important because it establishes specific issues that Mewtwo and Arei will have to deal with in the future – issues which could very well be their undoing. Now because I need to fit all of this into one entry, this is probably going to be our longest chapter, with maybe one exception down the road. I thought about breaking it in two, but that is exactly what it would be: broken. It would be a pure lemon chapter without the duo facing the potential consequences of their behavior. That should not be done, if only because there should not be a week's wait between the events in real time.

Yet at any rate, I do think I have lectured long enough. I hope you enjoy this week's chapter of Hollow.

Sincerely,

WiseAbsol

* * *

**- E N T R Y XIII. –**

_**Date – November 2**__**nd**__**-4**__**th**__**, 110 P.A. / 2114 A.D.:**_

"_Fruit on the vine.  
You've got yours,  
And I've got mine.  
Meat on your bones.  
They won't know, they won't know . . . "_

_- Breaking Benjamin, "Topless."_

_

* * *

_

**MEWTWO:**

As the festival soared into climax within its final night, the dusk air was pleasantly heavy with the smoky fragrances of gunpowder and incense. Across the wind floated the music of the celebration, which balanced dark and light tones in a haunting mixture of bass percussion, flutes, and ocarinas. Occasionally, the explosions, the whistles, the hisses of fireworks, which lit the shadows with blazes of colors, prevailed over the traveling symphony, and even from here, high in the observation room of the Temple, the sounds of cheers and stamping feet held a constant undertone of noise to the melody. Arei Dovasary, leaning against the stone ledge of the balcony, peered out across the plateau and into the main streets of the capital, which glittered as if seeded with fallen stars. Strewn along buildings and over the paths were paper decorations and orange lamps, and from out of the windows of many shops and homes, denizens of the city tossed petals of brightest scarlet over the parade participants who were slowly progressing towards the grounds. Dressed in elaborate costumes that mimicked the forms of the Holy Children, the headdresses obscuring all but their shining eyes, dancers spun and wove, occasionally beckoning the observers on the sidelines to join in their steps. Perhaps most notable of all the procession's features was what snaked through its center: the sacred Ouroboros train, symbolizing the eternity of the soul, of the empire, and of its God. Gleaming nacreous beneath the lights of the rockets, for tonight only it had released its tail, not only for practicality but also to show that in these hours, so fresh after rebirth, life and death hung linear. Yet tomorrow, the serpent would once again bite down upon its end, and it would circle, ever circle, until rebirth commenced again.

Having witnessed this all before, I leaned back into the cushions and silks behind me, watching her standing there, framed in pyrotechnic light. In hours previous she had entered this chamber after me, robed in her best kimono – a wash of lavender over which birds of purest white flew – and had set out our dinner, a rice dish of numerous spices and strips of sun-dried, salted fish, along with a couple hot bottles of the finest sake, which now were perched near the open fire burning in the center of the stone floor. Above it, the skylight was flung open, providing the smoke and floating embers a route of escape into the cool night air. I watched, a sense of strange peace pervading me (perhaps from the sake the woman had poured me some time earlier, her own cup still clutched in her hand as she watched the parade), as moths flirted with the fiery sparks the crackling blaze exhaled. After a time, the female turned back to me and crossed the space between us, and sat down beside me. Eventually, she murmured, "They all seem perfectly happy with the lie, don't they?"

It was the most she had said to me since we had parted nearly three days earlier. Taking a sip of my drink, letting the liquid float over my tongue before swallowing, I replied, (_Yes – and that is why the Rebellion has had such a lack of success. There are few who are willing to believe that this world is such an abysmal place when they can still achieve their dreams if they so desire. Certainty, those belonging to the new order do not agree with every edict passed, but what government in history has had its people support every law and belief it possesses?)_

She stared into the fire, considering that. "You are probably right…but they believe in you and your tales so deeply…," she said softly, and poured me more of the rice wine. Then she murmured, "Perhaps reality is in the eye of the beholder; after all, a dream is only a dream as long as its maker realizes it is an illusion. Yet if the dreamer is lost in their imagination, it becomes real to them…and if enough people believe in the dream, well…who can say what is and what is not true?"

I felt my lips twitch in humor. (_How strange…I was always under the impression that philosophical contemplation was among my own traits, not yours. I cannot say it is displeasing, however. Still, I must admit, you are growing admirably, Arei.)_

That seemed to both amuse and perplex her. "Am I?"

I nodded. _(Indeed; in these past few months, you have matured more swiftly than I had believed possible....)_

Long minutes passed after that declaration, and we continued to drink amiably, watching the fireworks burst in the starry sky. Vibrant red and emerald, shimmering gold and silver, bright violet and pink all lit the firmament at intervals, their embers trailing downwards like the branches of a willow or the graceful petals of spider lilies. Others mimicked flowers such as peonies, chrysanthemums, and dahlias, creating a garden of fire beneath the moon, while some descended in gentle waterfalls or thick rain, as if to drench their roots. Still others glimmered between them like faceted diadems or fairy rings, while some shrieked as they spiraled upwards into the air, like fish leaping from the surface of the sea. It mattered not to me that I had witnessed this spectacle countless times before: always was it alluring and beautiful in my eyes, and knowing it was the first time Arei had seen it since her awakening, I glanced at her face to note her expression. She had leaned back, her face tilted upwards and her interest enrapt as the finale began. As the explosions burst into one another, the sky overflowing with colored lights, I could feel the noise of the pyrotechnic zenith deep in my breastbone, pounding within my ribs…and she continued to watch until the final blaze faded into wisps of smoke, and the streets beyond the Temple began to quiet.

Although the celebration would continue well into the short hours of the morning, many citizens would choose this time to return to their homes to rest for the following day, when business would resume as usual. The woman and I, already home, need not move from our place in the comfortable silks, though we did stand now to stretch our muscles and takes our empty dishes to the nearby table. Confirming that all of the candles remained alight and chasing the shadows away, I then turned towards the fire and lifted a few logs of cut sandalwood with my telekinesis, setting them in the heart of the blaze. Within a minute, the dry wood caught, and soon its sweet aroma and welcome heat poured anew throughout the observation room. Arei, having already returned to her seat, now nursed another drink of the warmed alcohol. I joined her there, indulging in the same pastime, and after awhile we both grew pleasantly "buzzed," our tongues loosened and our inhibitions relaxing. We began to merely talk, the subjects fleeting and spilling into one another: about philosophy and politics, about human nature and the behavior of the Holy Children. Did the pokémon, she wondered, not interact with humans as much as they once had because they feared that such encounters might encourage mankind to covet them again? Or did they simply prefer to dwell in the wilds, which were no longer being encroached upon by humanity? I provided her with what answers I could give, but I doubted they were entirely satisfactory; after all, I had always found her kind a more interesting subject of study than my own, and as such, I could only guess at their motives.

Eventually, music floated up into the air once more: the parade musicians had joined the choir from the Temple, their songs now carrying up into the night, crying in celebration of the resurrection and of the wonders of life. Such lively and ancient folksong called to Arei, and leaving me behind she stood, allowing her outer robes to fall to the floor, leaving her clad in only a thin dress of the same ashen tone as my fur, whose hue it had been derived from. Then, with me as her only witness...she let go. She danced about the fire, her steps light, her limbs sweeping, her slim form swaying, the hem of her dress and her hair whirling in the fragrant air across her skin, which was honey-toned in the firelight. Her arms lifted into the air, as though beseeching, and she breathed out long, slow breaths, her expression tranquil, her gaze glazed…but within their depths, they burned as she reveled in grace. She was one with the night, vital as the flames, her partner in dance, though neither touched nor kissed, for sacred were their movements, full of feeling and primal energy that neither wished to release. Time stretched as I watched her turn and turn, bringing each detail into perfect clarity: the brushes of her soles to the smooth, stone floor, the folds of the fabric embracing her as she twirled, the gentle curve of her spine as she leapt and fell, chasing the smoke and wind and moonlight.

And there was something so utterly sensual about the dance that I could not help but admire her with a soft smile, intoxicated with the sight of her as much as with the drink which warmed my center.

Eventually, as all things begun must, her motions slowed and halted. Standing beside the fire, she peered at me, her eyes beckoning me to rise. Although I was a feline, and hence one entitled to grace, I nonetheless declined, for the affinity to nature she displayed was one I could not mimic. With a sigh, she wondered aloud, "Why won't you join me?"

Her tone was layered, the words possessing more meaning than one. Taking another sip of sake, I replied, (_Did it occur to you that perhaps I do not wish to sully the purity I see when I gaze on you?)_

Her eyes gleamed in the dim. "Tell me, my Abaddon, how would you dirty me? You do not care about blood – you are already drowning in it. And as for sin, can pokémon or gods truly commit it, or isn't it simply a human evil?"

Her question intrigued me, but I felt I already knew the answer: anything with sentience may commit atrocity. However, something she had said clung in me: "my Abaddon." Somehow, that use of the possessive was appealing…for, from her tone, I knew she claimed no ownership over me. If anything, it was a declaration of a far more pleasant sort….

_(I believe I can commit sin just as easily as you can, Arei…and as such, I have my reasons for not joining you.)_

I attempted to say it gently to avoid giving her reason for offense, for I meant no insult by the comment. She was, after all, attractive enough, though by no stretch of the means stunning: her form was too childlike, too thin to be one which invoked wild fantasies in a man, though her coloring was enough to arouse the curiosity of potential suitors. For myself, I viewed her to be alluring, but this beauty was perhaps accentuated by the wonder I felt in regards to her soul. Regardless, the young woman seemed to sober and asked quietly, "…Are those reasons the same reasons why you didn't take me on Spirit's Eve?"

She walked towards me, and swirling my remaining sake in the bottom of my cup, I wondered how long she had been waiting to ask that question. Finally, as she halted before me, I said, (_Yes, they are.)_

My priestess sat down beside me; her skin and hair radiated warmth and were well perfumed by the sweet sandalwood smoke. "So why did you take Christina? What was your reasoning then? Are she and I so different?"

Gazing at her, I mused on that. (…_In ways, yes, you are different. However, as the weeks progress, you are becoming more similar to her. I daresay she might even have likened you to a sister, but I cannot be certain.)_ And I reached out, touching her jaw, turning her head so I could gaze into her face. (_You are, as she was, a creature of tolerance and thoughtfulness. You, like her, chose not to abuse your position in the pursuit of personal ambitions or pleasures, and you, like her, show a deep capacity for kindness. As well, both of you deemed to treat me like a man, rather than a god you dare not voice your opinion to. And as for your differences...well, you are something of an idealist, Arei. She, however, she was a realist. True, she wanted to think the best of others and work towards a brighter future, but she was aware of the darkness of humanity and knew she could not overcome it alone. She was also extremely wary, despite how brave she was, and knew well to take care with whom she trusted. And finally, she was a brilliant orator, better perhaps than I was. You, on the other hand, prefer to speak only when you deem it necessary, preferring the arts as your method of expression. You are also extremely amiable, your soul more open, and you give your trust away freely if your initial meeting with an individual is pleasant. The "Kestrel" is a good example of how dangerous that behavior can potentially be…I fear at times that your naivety will be your death.)_

My paw rose, gracing her cheek. She did not brush my touch away. (_And then there are the physical contrasts: she was far older than you are, as well as quite a bit taller - you are almost childlike in your stature in comparison. In addition, she also had olive skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes; you have a paler complexion, darker hair, and an exotic gaze. Then there are your behaviors: you both prove rather sweet in nature, but I must confess you are by far warmer than she was, at least when concerning me. She was ever so cool in my presence - I daresay she cherished her fiercest enemies far more than she cherished her God.)_

She hesitated for a moment, and then whispered, "…And the thought of that saddens you, doesn't it? Doesn't it bother you, not having anyone close to you?" And surprising me, she pressed a hand to the paw I held to her. Her palm was warm….

...I drew away from her and stared into the dancing flames. Suddenly, the heat of that blaze could no longer penetrate my fur. My eyelids drifted shut, and I commented in a cool, detached voice, (_I am well used to being alone, woman. Over the years, I have even found my isolation from others preferable…although, of course, I am not immune to loneliness. Yet when it dares creep up into my soul, I mock it: for how can a creature live with hundreds at his disposal and still feel alone? If I truly wanted company, it is not simple enough to obtain? Are your predecessors not proof enough of that, and proof enough that even choosing your own companions with utmost care may not even insure your comfort? No, beyond your hallowed kind, I find the prospect of establishing bonds to be too wearying, and hence a pursuit better left to more social creatures.)_

This conversation had, against my better judgment, edged too close to why I had chosen her and the others, and within the depths of my mind, I waited with dread for her to ask the question…but she never did, not then. Instead, she reflected on what I had revealed about my lifestyle. "That sounds empty to me. With people bonded to you, life can be so…_dynamic_. Yet without relationships, all you have is yourself, and I am quite sure that would drive anyone mad after enough time had passed."

How ironic…had Kaliesha not uttered the same warning, albeit with a different wording?

I turned back to her, my curiosity perked, and asked, (_And what of you, Arei? Do you ever feel lonely?)_

She froze…and then with a sad smile, breathed out, "…Yes. My people look up to me in awe, placing me far above them, and so I cannot belong among them. The imperial servants with whom I spend my days educate and humor me, but what we share is far from a relaxed friendship. Then others exist who do not care for me in the least, such as Craven, and, I suspect, the Priests. Of course, there are the exceptions: Marie treats me as a mother might, and Byron as a sibling would, to name the primary two…but the line is always there, isn't it? I am the High Priestess and they are my social inferiors, and as such, because none of us are on the same level, there will always be expectations I must meet in their eyes…expectations that, had I been a casual companion or their equal, they would not dream of asking me to meet."

…She was, I expected, speaking of Spirit's Eve: having the people she cared for most setting her up to be sexually violated was not the behavior of true friends. While I suspected the thought of rape had tortured at least her lead Handmaiden's conscience, the fact remained that the woman had done nothing to stop the potential crime from taking place. She, like her companions, had failed Arei when she had most needed defenders, simply because tradition dictated that they must not intervene, even if their morals called for them to fight for what was right. They had instead chosen to do what was easy: ignore the issue. As such, they had proven the frailty of their loyalty and love for their young empress. Hence, sadly, Arei's observations were correct: she was alone, as I was. We were surrounded by admirers, yes…but in the end, our statuses isolated us from the community – such was the curse of divine privilege and standing.

In my case, I had chosen this fate. She, on the other hand….

"…And perhaps worse is that every day, the only person I have to rely on fades more and more."

My attention regained, I asked, (_And who might that be?)_

She glanced at me, and then away, and whispered, "…Me. It is getting harder and harder to simply be myself around others, especially considering what I have learned these last few days."

…And somewhere deep inside me, a laugh blossomed inappropriately, for I could not help but feel incredulous: (_And what about me, Arei? Have I suddenly vanished from existence and left you alone on the top of the world?) _Maybe it was the sake, or maybe it was that her melodrama honesty robbed the sense from me, but I found her declaration entirely comical. After all, she had yet to mention me in her list of people who had disappointed her, and I would have thought, previous to this hour, that I would be at the top of those she would complain about, given I had done her the most damage!

Naturally, my light tone offended her. She was attempting to convey a dire problem to me, and here I sat, scoffing at her. "I – what? No, of course not, it is just that for the first several months of my life, you were not precisely approachable with my insecurities, and now matters between us are such an incredible mess that…," and then she understood what I was saying, and a queer smile crossed her face and she nearly snorted into her drink, "Oh, I see…and of course now we're getting somewhat tipsy and talking about every little thing because we've hit rock bottom! Well how utterly delightful," and she meant that, as if she could now fully relish in the twisted, sick hilarity of fate.

After her shoulders ceased to quake with laughter, she tossed down the cool sake that remained in her cup with a grimace, and said, "Well, I suppose I can always act myself around you. After all, I am certain you could tell if I was behaving in any strange fashion, since I have never been able to fool you or even have anything to hide from you, right?"

(_I am quite glad you agree.)_ She snorted again, muttered something most likely mildly insulting, and seeing her stretch out over the silks, I asked her, (_If I may inquire, are you intending to stay here all night?)_

As this particular room was only accessible through my quarters, I was curious. She smirked. "Would you let me?"

(_I see no reason why not. At this point, it makes no difference where you spend the remainder of the night, so long as you remain in one of our chambers.)_

She sat up abruptly, perhaps too swiftly, for she swayed somewhat before leaning closer to me. "Good, because I do not think I could walk back to my room properly if you forced me to leave. Maybe you can be merciful…well, at least when you're a tad drunk."

I was not drunk…at ease, perhaps, but not drunk. Yet there was no need to correct her…and besides, what she had said made me curious. (_My, what do you think of me if you believe I can only be warm when intoxicated?)_ She obviously did not remember much of the other night she had been under the influence – which was not surprising, given her thoughts would have been muddled, but it was somewhat depressing to find that she could not recall the hour when I had treated her with kindness and respect.

Then to my surprise, she began to contemplate an answer for my inquiry, and after a few moments said, "…I think when you chose to stop acting all _aloof_ and _arrogant_ in your power, you can be quite considerate to those you like at least a little. You speak like a poet, which more often than not is something I find pleasant, and I guess I try to mimic that because I admire how easily you find the right words to say. And in many ways, you're a human in a pokémon's skin, given that you seem to mingle traits from both sides, both in mind and body. You're a _masterpiece_, really: walking between the shadows and light, evil and good, chaos and order, and when you aren't being a jerk, you can be appealing to...er, _certain individuals_."

(_Oh? Who?)_ Yet from the way her cheeks stained pink, I already knew the answer.

She looked away from me, and whispered, "Me, I suppose...and given what you actually are, what you did to us all, I _hate _myself for it so much…!"

Yet I set our cups aside and leaned over her, not allowing her to avoid meeting my gaze. Perhaps she despised herself for caring for or admiring a monster - but I was quite grateful for it, and breathing in her scent of lilacs, I uttered, (_Well, perhaps you do find that affection deplorable…but frankly, I am pleased to hear that it exists. Maybe there is some hope for you and me yet….)_

We were close enough that our breaths mingled, and quietly, she murmured the name she had always known me as: "Abaddon...."

...And suddenly, so suddenly that I did not know which of us had crossed the distance, our mouths had met.

My eyes drifted shut…warmth, softness, the faint flavor of grapes across the tongue, which was spiked with the heady bite of alcohol. Although I had only enjoyed the kiss of one woman before, I concluded almost instantly whose I preferred, moving my mouth against Arei's as she curled upwards to hold the tender contact. I felt the tip of her tongue grace my lower lip tentatively, an act which I returned as her lips parted. Our kiss became fuller, our breaths blended, and an intoxicating heat traveled down my throat, pooling in my stomach as we pressed ourselves closer. This felt and tasted wonderful…her hand cupped the back of my neck, pressing me down against her, her other clutching at my shoulder. I slid a firm arm about her waist, the fingers of my other paw becoming buried in the feathery strands of her hair, fragrant of sandalwood smoke and lilacs. We sank into the silks, moving against one another, allowing the bliss of physical intimacy to comfort us after days, perhaps months of uncertainty…. Eventually, as thought began to reemerge we parted, gazing into each other's faces, contemplating the act which had just taken place. Her gaze was glazed and half-lidded, and there was no hint of a smile on her face. I could glean no shred of comprehension from that expression, but before I could properly ask her how she felt about what we had done, she dragged me back down, her mouth imploring me not to cease…and so I did not. The warmth within me intensified, burning, spreading throughout my flesh, and with a quiet growl of pleasure, I cradled her mouth to mine again. For no matter how my mind might argue now, she was no longer a child. Her innocence had been lost, perhaps longer ago than I had dared imagine….

Soon I felt her palms caressing my face, my necks, my torso, as if savoring the feel of my fur, and taking that as an invitation to do more for her as well, I brushed kisses down her jaw and throat, nipping softly at the pulse beating there, running my fangs along her shoulder. She shivered, and reaching downwards, I began to push at the fabric of her dress, sliding the thin garment upwards until she must lift her arms to free herself from it…which she did, and it was promptly cast aside. All that remained were her undergarments, thin wraps of silk about her breasts and around her waist, both of which I made no motion to unwind just now. Instead, I reveled in the feel of her bare legs brushing against my hips, at the feel of her flat stomach rubbing to mine, the way in which her arms encircled around me. With each motion of our bodies, pleasure flared in the most intimate regions of my flesh, and from Arei's own quivers and gasps, I was certain she too experienced the same sensations. My loins soon ached, and I could _smell_ the perfume of sex rising from between her thighs…but for now, I ignored both, focusing my attention instead up the amulet she yet wore…or more precisely, the skin beneath it. I buried my muzzle against her, my fingers trailing over her sides as I nuzzled at the shallow valley between her breasts. I tugged the fabric away with my teeth, admiring the small mounds before massaging them and running the tip of my tongue across her sweet, hardening nipples – her frame stiffened, a shrill whimper rising from her throat at the contact. Her cry only aroused me more…I chuckled into her breasts, glancing up at her, and lay another kiss upon her mouth. I was uncertain which part of her tasted better to me….

"Ab - Abaddon…!"

A hint of ecstasy raced through us both as my sex slid against the nub between her legs. I gritted my teeth, groaning slightly as the pleasure of the contact flashed through my loins deep into my core. I wanted her to touch me…by god did I want that. If she had been Christina, I might even have ordered that of her, because that woman, for all her disgust at her union with me, would have obeyed any demand I made of her. If I had wanted her to encompass me with the moist heat of her mouth, she would have - but I had been interested in traditional sex, not the offshoots of the act, I had settled for savoring the feel of the silken walls of her genitalia. And as for Arei…I would not request such a thing from her. No, I was enjoying the sharp gasps rising from her throat as I rubbed against her, feeling her pulse and the fabric between us moisten. A soft plea fled her, and with a hiss, I tore at the fabric between us, moving myself forward between her thighs, feeling the wet curls of her sex around me, feeling her flesh hot against my tip….

And in the moment before union, as I clutched at her sides tightly, I made perhaps my first mistake: I looked down into her face…and what I saw stopped me from thrusting forward as my libido demanded of me. For Arei, though her body begged for mine, though she had said no words to protest my advances…was not smiling.

True, I likely refrained from such a silly expression of joy as well, though I was nearly brimming with emotion…yet the eyes that peered up at me seemed strangely empty. For the first time I extended my empathic senses into her, trying to decipher what she was feeling - it was muddled, with no emotion particularly clear to me. However, I could tell what her spirit lacked now: happiness. She was not happy being this close to me. Yes, her core itched desperately with lust, so much so that her mind was held under its sway, and even now, she moved against me as if in a silent plea for me to enter her so she might ride my motions into climax and so satiate her desire. And I ached to do the same; so much of me now declared that it did not matter, for she had consented, and so there was nothing wrong with continuing and releasing the building pressure within me. I could take her now…I could guide myself into her and fill her and finish the act with a few hurried motions. It would be so easy….

And yet…words haunted me now in a way they never had before; they echoed in my mind, making me hesitate….

"_You claim to be curious about love, and to humor you I let you take from me the last thing you hadn't stolen . . . after all, all you care about is your own ambitions, your own needs...."_

"_...You took those gifts from me…you took everything from me…!"_

(...it is a sacred place. For your sake, allow no one but the person you love entrance into it…for no one else would be worthy of your gift.)

That was right…I had advised her against allowing someone she did not adore inside of her. And now, intoxicated as she was during the night I had denied her, she was unable to reject her suitor herself. Instead, I must depart from her once more…or at the very least, not slide inside her and, as my once lover had said, take from her the last thing I had not already stolen. With a moan of mingled disappointment and remorse I shut my eyes and released her, pressing my forehead to her shoulder, trying to calm myself…yet her breathing was quickened and her skin flushed…the sight of her, the sound of her, only made me harden more until almost painful. My mind was set on not continuing, yet everything else, including her, was set to drive us into the act. I should have known better than to allow her to drink…she had not the experience I had with alcohol. Then the woman breathed out, "Abaddon...is something wrong...?"

My brow furrowed…and just so, I drew away from the woman before me, brushing her cheek with my fingertips, and asked, (_Arei…what do you feel for me?)_

Focus seemed to return to her gaze, but it was swiftly drowned with confusion. She tilted her head to the side, not gazing at me, and whispered, "I…I don't know."

And she spoke the truth; she did not know whether she loved me or hated me, or to what degree between those two extremes her feelings rested. My elation sinking, I knew then that I could not take advantage of this uncertainty, as we had with the alcohol and our amiability, and as such, I could not move forward, no matter how I yearned to…no matter how her fingertips trailed over me….

_Fuck…!_

Even after a century, it was likely the first time I had mentally cursed using that vulgar word, and I mused with some irony on how very appropriate it was. I felt my resolve begin to collapse, and I kissed her, pressed myself to her, indulging in the sweet pleasure of her movements against me. Why stop now when we wanted this, when we needed this, why, why, _why_…? And the answer, so simple, dominated my thoughts: because it was not fair to her. Once again, I would be using someone whose bond with me was supposed to be pure. I would be betraying the trust she had placed in me, even after I had revealed to her what I was. Even now she invited me into her from her faith that I would not hurt her. But in the depths of _her_ mind, I knew what was truly there: she did not want me to claim her body, nor was she psychologically ready for this act. And so, with a terrible groan I backed away, my mouth trailing down across her stomach as I fled, and I mused that this was perhaps the most horrible experience I had encountered. Even Christina, who had mated with me with a cold heart, could not compare to the pain of craving someone so dearly with all that I was, and knowing that I could not have her. I could not take from this woman, for I had taken so much, too much already….

And then the thought emerged: why not give this woman something back? At first, I could make no sense of it, and then the solution bloomed in my mind, a way with which to provide her what she longed for and yet not ravish her selfishly. Yet this would be something I had never committed before, not in over a century of life. Anxiety twisted my gut…but was I not well used to experimentation? Under Giovanni's heel, I had been directed to participate in detailed studies of my being, and in my own scientific endeavors, research into the intimate secrets of my physiology had proven commonplace. In addition, I had run tests in more fields than mere biology, and perhaps this could simply be viewed as another trial, if on a more personal scale. It would not be as if I was doing anything exotic, given that the act had been committed for thousands of years, and even held a place of worship in certain religions of the old world. And she, I knew, was in perfect health, so there would be no risk of contamination for me. Zered and I, knowing her history, had screened her to make certain of that. No, the only harm her occupation had done was leave her with scars deep in her womb - beyond that, she proved unscathed and clean of infection. Reassured by those facts, I inched downwards, my breath rolling across her abdomen, into the small, dark curls of hair between her legs. Her potent scent was an assault against my nostrils, femininity condensed into a perfume which filled the forefront of my mind with fog. My hands cradled her inner thighs as I rested on my stomach, ignoring the ache in my loins, and I leaned forward, her trimmed hair tickling at my muzzle, for a moment amusing myself with the thought of how very alien and unappealing the sight of any sex was, regardless of gender. And then softly, tentatively, my tongue flicked out to run over her flesh….

She coiled, squeaked in shock, and I mused that her taste was somewhat…bitter. Not wholly unpleasant, but it was not as sweet as the nectar or honey that some men likened it to. Though perhaps the flavor depended entirely on the individual, for I doubted not that in some it would be sweet. I brushed aside completely the curls to reveal the flushed, heated inner folds of her sex and the bud above them, and licked gently at the tender flesh, feeling her fingernails bite at my shoulders as I did. Her frame tensed, relaxed, shifted minutely above me, quiet pants and cries rising from her throat at the foreign bliss my touch seemed to induce in her. I wondered to myself if she had every experienced this form of pleasuring before. Given her background, I could not be certain…and yet, I reminded myself, her task had been to provide pleasure, not receive it in return, and for all her supposed experience, her body seemed not to know how to react to the lapping of my tongue against her. Of course, without her memories of those years, essentially this was the first true sexual experience of her life…yet still, I wondered….

Her flesh parted as I stiffened my tongue, and closing my eyes I slid into her, the bitterness flooding my tongue, hot walls of flesh enveloping me. Over my arms her legs bent, and I imagined her toes curling. I pushed farther in, thankful for being descended from feline ancestors, blessed so with long tongues meant to preen. Slowly, curiously, I explored her, feeling how she yielded, how she clutched as I manipulated the dexterous muscle to see the effects it had on her. On occasion, I caressed a region which made her shiver, but never could I pinpoint where precisely it was. Holding her firm, I simply pleasured her, moving in and out in an act reminiscent of what I would be doing if we truly mated. She seemed to enjoy it, though she did not shriek as a female supposedly would when experiencing this...yet she did occasionally moan softly, and that was enough. At times, my tongue brushed the nub above her folds, and at those times, my empathy alerted me to her mingled sharp pain and pleasure of the contact. She was so sensitive there, but then, that part of her body had been crafted for that purpose. Sliding my tongue from her, I began to lap at her again, and this time moved up to that bud of flesh, silken beneath my tongue. Her spine curled, a sharp hiss escaping her throat. I would finish this there, where bliss sliced into her the most. I continued my lapping at her, increasing the speed and firmness of the strokes, no longer being so gentle, and that, I found, met reward. Her body coiled, her limbs motioning me closer, and I obeyed her will, for this was meant as an offering to her. I encompassed the whole of her in my mouth; the tip of my tongue rubbed beneath the nub, circled it, and lapped against the pulsing tip, her bitterness seeping afresh, and then-.

"Stop! Too much…!" She gasped, her hands attempting to push me away.

Yet as soon as she cried for me to cease, I had flicked at her one final time and had drawn away. She shuddered before turning over on her side, squeezing her legs together as if to press into nothingness her moist and pleasured sex – but even that seemed futile, for she winced, eventually contenting herself with keeping her thighs apart, allowing only air to brush her. The sensitivity was too overwhelming to her…it might even be painful, or so intense she simply feared it, as fresh as she was to the feelings of any form of erotic pleasure. My paw ran over her side as I rose to my haunches, my sex still erect, although my focus on invoking pleasure in her seemed to have distracted me from the drive to satisfy my own needs. Still, she remained arousing, and so I reached for the silks beneath us, covering her form with them, at which she seemed to slacken as if in relief. I then pressed a kiss to her temple, my fingers running through her hair, and I thought to myself that even though she was not a goddess, she was still lovely, this woman of hallowed dance. Her eyes drifted shut, her breathing quieting…and in my chest, my heart beat steadily, and seemed to warm as I saw her relax. I...smiled.

Was she happy?

I…wanted her to be happy.

_Arei...?_

"Abaddon…um...," she blushed, and then murmured, "...thank you."

…It would be enough.

(_You're welcome. Now rest, priestess.)_

I stood, intent upon a chilled shower…and when I returned, she was sleeping soundly in the silks. Calmed now, I lay beside her and wove an arm and tail loosely around her. She radiated warmth, her scent of lilacs filled my muzzle and lungs, and her heart pounded steadily as mine did. And for a while, for a short while as her heat poured into me and I began to doze…I felt peace.

Yet it could not last....

Nothing ever does.

* * *

**AREI:**

...Sunshine, pale and cool as the dawn, trickled over the skylight.

I did not want to open my eyes to it - it blinded, making the pounding pain within my heavy skull worse. No, I would not open my eyes, nor move. Beyond the glow, I was comfortable resting in the sheets, and felt warm and secure. I did not wish to leave this haze to face the brutal edges of reality, for this was safe and pleasant and tender, and far preferable to confronting the day.

Yet eventually I realized that the sheets were encompassing my naked skin, that there was a weight around my waist, and that a surface was undulating against my back. As coherent thought reared from the silver mist, looming dark and unpleasant, a chill sliced through my stomach as the questions formed. Why was I not wearing my robes? What that a - no, _who_ was the person lying behind me, holding me in their arms? I tried to remember what had occurred in the previous night, but there seemed to be nothing after I had consumed dinner with Abaddon. Ignoring the headache, I concentrated upon the fog of the hours afterward the meal: a parade and fireworks…a fire, Abaddon laying out on these very silks, watching me…we had talked…then what? What had happened? The fog thickened, obscuring my memory. Panic filled me, and opening my eyes I gazed into the ashes of a dead blaze. Then, slowly, I turned towards the warmth behind me…and froze as I saw Abaddon lying next to me. My gaze darted to the floor around us. There were my robes and my...my undergarments...? My stomach plunged, and then lurched. _What...what had we done last night?_

As I scrambled away from him, clutching the silks to my chest, Abaddon shifted and then opened his eyes…which fixed on the sight of me sitting there, staring at him in such dismay. He rose on one arm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but I could feel his focus upon me like the tip of a knife pressed to the center of my back. As I whispered his name, he rose to his feet, tossing me my clothes with his telekinesis. After a moment as he starred purposefully away from me, he growled, (_There are people searching for you - dress quickly and return to your quarters.)_

There was no trace of warmth in his tone, and a shiver raced down my spine. I did not understand. "Abaddon…?"

He head jerked towards me so that he could gaze into my face, and with frighteningly fierce eyes, he snarled, (_I gave you an order, woman! Get out of these rooms NOW!)_

I flinched away from him, feeling as if lashed by a whip. Trembling, I tried to throw on my clothes as swiftly as possible, but that did not seem to satisfy him: I felt an icy rush as he teleported me into my own quarters, and there, in shock, I sank down onto the rug, shaking. What…what was going on? Why was he being so…? What had I done to merit this treatment? I clutched at the fibers beneath me, trying to remember…and finally, the fog cleared, and the memories of the twilight returned. My stomach lurched again, this time far more powerfully. I rose, discarding my used robes and raced into the washroom. Yet as I hung over the toilet bowl, the contents of my stomach would not come up, though the strength of my nausea made me dizzy and bathed me in a cold sweat. My flesh crawled, and I felt as if I was covered in grime. My decision only half-formed, I stumbled to the shower, turning the water on full blast and not caring that it was freezing as I stepped into it. I screamed as it bit at my flesh, and as the revulsion built inside of me, I grasped the nearest washcloth, impregnated it with soap, and scrubbed at every inch of my skin. I wanted to get his scent off me, wanted to wash away what had happened. I even reached up inside of myself, the pain of it making the tears stinging in my eyes overflow, and the sobs I had been keeping at bay shaking me. I wanted him off me, I wanted him out…! Leaning against the cool wall, the water pounding on my back, I shuddered and gasped. Even as I was rinsed of soap suds, I felt as though I was so dirty that I could never come clean.

Eventually, my horror was lost between fresh, more potent feelings of anger, grief, and weakness. Why had he thrown me out...? Was he ashamed that he had acted so primitively with me? Was he ashamed that my purity had collapsed, and that I had pleaded for him to give me more? Did the very memory of our actions disgust him so much that he could not stand the sight of me? Why, after I had let myself be so vulnerable with him, had he treated it as if it was a vile offering, unfit for even the lowest of beings? And why, _why_ had I let him near me in the first place, knowing the kind of monster he was?

Tears burned my face, and from misery I turned to rage, which was at once rasher and safer than self-pity. I felt used, violated, and now discarded like an embarrassing toy. I seethed, for what right did he have to treat me so harshly when he had been the one in control of the situation? I did not deserve this! I was his companion, not his…not his…! And ice crystallized in my chest, for I remembered well what I had once been told my position as empress entailed. I was meant to surrender to him, to give him carnal pleasure whenever he craved it: as his personal servant, that was one of my entrusted duties. He could demand anything of me, and still I was expected to obey him! As my fury soared, I leapt from the waters, striding into my rooms and rummaging through my belongings for my most plain robes and cloaks. Throwing them on, I raced from my rooms and left no note. I ran through the halls, down the stairways, and finally turned to leave the Temple itself. Save for my footsteps, the grounds were quiet at this hour, and as I descended ever downwards from the plateau, pain knifed in my side and my throat from my sharp intakes of breath. Saliva, thin and metallic tasting, trickled past my windpipe and made me sputter as I fled into the capital, not truly knowing or caring where my feet took me. I raced into the districts, bumping past countless early risers, though our eyes never met and I remained unnoticed, until finally, my legs succumbed to spasms and gave out. Stumbling, I collapsed in an alleyway of the entertainment quarter. No one on the streets noticed my quivering form, as busy as they were in clearing the area of festival decorations.

When I had regained some strength, I stood, kept my hood lowered, and began to wander deeper into the back alleyways. Why I did this I knew not, but in my apathy, my caution and fear for where I had strayed was minimal. I knew that I was walking into the territory of gangs, of sexual predators, of violent fiends, and yet it was as if I purposefully sought to destroy myself in those moments, to allow blackness to swallow me completely. Passing brothels and bars, I drew closer to a destination which had no name or face, until the sounds of terrible, shredding music poured into the streets, causing me to pause. A wicked siren's song blared from a pub dubbed, "The Elysian Fields" where Lucario, the god of the downtrodden, was said to search for his lost companion. Considering it fitting for me, who felt worth as much as the dust clouding its windowsills, I stepped forward and entered into the bedlam. On one side of the room, where tables had been cleared, a lightning pokémon – an Electabuzz, if memory served – charged the musical machines to create the eerie noise of the bellowing drums, the electric guitars, and the delicate keyboard. Above their harmonies rang male vocals, the language of the lyrics he sang foreign in my ears. However, his angelic tone and the harsh instrumental notes blended well, and were exciting enough that many listeners danced and screamed with the music. I shied away from it, for though enticing, it seemed barbaric compared to what I encountered in my daily life.

Of course, I knew that this music was not so different from what was popular in the last century. Although much had regressed after the Apocalypse, music had not. True, many of the technologies employed to create what had been known as "modern rock" and "metal" had grown scarce, but books compiling the recordings had been presented to the public and refined decades ago, for Abaddon had enjoyed the driving melodies and had sought to have the genres continue to evolve. As the thought of him entered my mind, I shoved the contemplation away, merely allowing the pounding beat to pulse through my chest…and then a slower, haunting song began, and in the ensuing hush I walked over to the bar and sat on one of the stools, ordering red wine which, unlike sake, I had far more experience with. Drinking deeply of the sweet alcohol, my nerves began to settle, and the music synchronized with my mood. I ordered a refill after a few more moments; the bartender eyed me warily, but did as requested. Hours passed and the wine lost its taste, so I settled for watching the other customers playing cards and gambling and singing. By noon, any worry I had for the Temple servants finding me had slid into nonexistence. Abaddon must have held them back, for I imagined the news of my disappearance would have traveled into even this little hole by now if he had not. Should I be offended by his lack of concern, or grateful that he was giving me some time and space? Did he think me childish for running away...?

The bartender, by this point, was keeping a sharp eye on me and kept filling my glass with water rather than alcohol, and I remembered vaguely that I had no money with which to pay him for the wine. However, he did not seem to seek coin, for as the crowd filtered out to attend to their jobs, he said to me, "You drink that water up, High Priestess. I'm giving you no more wine, otherwise you'll be sick on my counter, and while it might be a blessing to baptize it with the contents of your stomach, it would be a sour-smelling mess to clean up all the same."

I had to smile wryly. "So I have been recognized - how wonderful."

He noted my tone. "I take it that even you have your bad days?"

"Yes," I moaned, "Being on top of the world means you have a lot you can trip over."

His eyes twinkled in amusement. "I suppose so - may I inquire as to what brought you here?"

I drank some of the water, finding it pleasantly cool. Pressing the glass to my forehead, I admitted, "Abaddon can overstep his bounds at times…so I needed to get away for awhile. With that in mind, my feet brought me here."

He turned away, and when he turned back, he slid a plate of fried fish and potatoes in front of me. "Well, feel free to relax here as long as you wish. The meal and wine are free, so enjoy, my lady."

Only as the aroma of food hit my nose did I realize how famished I was; having not eaten since the previous evening, I devoured the meal and ignored the nausea that threatened as I did so. After I had swallowed the last bite, I pushed the plate aside and leaned against the counter, weariness enveloping me as my stomach settled. I asked the man if there was someplace I might rest for a time, and taking care not to touch me, he led me into a back room where I might sleep undisturbed. A woman, his wife, laid out a mat for me, which I curled upon with a murmur of thanks, and shut my eyes. When I opened them next, it was to the sound of breaking glass and shouts. A bar fight amongst the night crowd had broken out in the main room; the hour was past midnight. Staring at the wall, I wondered distantly why I was still here, although I knew it would be foolish to wander the streets after dark. Rolling over, I found the woman sitting beside my pallet - she was reading a romance novel. When she spied me peering at her, she smiled, snapped the book shut, stood, bowed, and asked me if there was anything she could do to make me more comfortable – food or drink, perhaps?

I shook my head. The only thing I needed was to relieve the pain in my bladder. "Could you show me were the toilet is, please?"

With another smile the woman led me to the bathroom; again, Abaddon's unwillingness to let go of the past was evident, for adequate plumbing and sewage disposal were required in all buildings. Once I had finished and scrubbed my hands nearly raw, remembering where they had touched the monster, I joined her for tea. Over our cups we discussed her lifestyle and business for a couple of hours, until exhaustion settled in again, and I returned to the mat they had provided…and thankfully, during that night under their roof, I never dreamed....

* * *

_After their son had closed the bar and had retreated into his room for the night, the spouses remained wakeful. Sitting in their kitchen, they stared into their empty cups of tea, as if searching for shapes in the dregs from which they could divine their fortunes. Now that their distractions had resolved themselves and the morning had drifted into the dead hours, they allowed themselves to speak about the creature resting in their spare room. The bartender broke the silence first, saying, "I would not have thought she would have any residual memories. Considering her past, I was certain her mind would have been wiped clear - what other option would he have had? But damn…what if she had strayed over to the Madam's?"_

_His wife ran a fingertip around the rim of her cup. "I suspect the woman would have driven her away as fast as she could manage. It would have been too dangerous for Ora if she were recognized by one of the regular customers. We were fortunate she came here, rather than her old home."_

_The man sighed, and murmured, "Are we so lucky...? If she regained her memories, might she not bow to the cause again? Her position in society is more than ideal for-."_

"_No; she cannot be swayed back. Yes, she is angry with the false god for some reason, but I believe she retains her loyalty to him. Unlike Ora, this Arei is fond of the creature, and that is why his actions can hurt her so."_

_A bitter smile crossed his face at that. "How cruel...Ora would be infuriated if she could see herself now, serving that creature."_

_His spouse nodded. "Yes…but that is not to say that Arei cannot have her own use in our plans."_

_Her husband stilled, and glanced at his companion with suspicious, narrowed eyes. "…Sabrina's prophecy? You think _Ora_ might be the bearer of the Prince? My dear, you know she is incapable of-!"_

_She cut him off, asserting, "The fated child is meant to be born of a miracle…and besides, the timing would be right. However, it could always be the next, so I cannot be certain. We must watch how events unfold. Still, you cannot deny the circumstances are ideal."_

"…_True," he nodded, "The change is tangible...but we must not jump to conclusions! For now, we will wait." _

_And throughout their entire discussion, the empress in the other room did not stir, and remained oblivious to all that had been said...._

_

* * *

_

**AREI:**

…When I awoke, dawn had bleached the sky into the palest shades of turquoise, pink, and lemon yellow...and Abaddon, still and silent, cast a shadow over the mat, blocking from my eyes the heavenly light. Lifting my torso with one arm, I did not look up into his face, instead wondering vaguely how long had he been standing there, watching me slumber. And as the unnatural quiet filled into my ears, more inquiries formed in my thoughts: where were the man and his wife? Were they awake at this hour, and if so, had they left to attend to business beyond their pub? Or were they simply leaving us alone, as I was certain their God would have desired? I could not know, and after several uneasy moments, I realized that Abaddon was growling at me. (_…I am half-surprised you are still alive, considering you wandered into the home of Rebel sympathizers. Tell me, has speaking with them given you any of the insight you have been seeking, or-?)_

Interrupting him while rubbing sleep from my eyes, I questioned him. "Insight…? What are you talking about?"

He fell silent, and when he spoke again, he did not answer my inquiry. Instead, he said, (_If you were aware of what I was referring to, you would have a clear answer to my question. I had merely wondered if the fissure of your mind would have split apart completely when interacting with the likes of them…yet it appears that no damage has been done. Now, are you ready to return home, or will you persist in acting like a child?)_

_'Home'…? 'Child'?_

"…Why? Why should I go back?" My voice came out softly…and carrying some agitation. Beneath my numb exterior, I felt a prickling of frustration.

(…_Because I desire it of you,) _he whispered.

Bitterness swelled in my chest, burning like acid. Hints of the anger I had thought soothed in the twilight seeped into my tone. "I see…so you want me to return to a place where I am forced to posture as a figurehead on a ship built from blood and deception. You want me to return to a place where I can barely differentiate between friend and foe, and where, eventually, I may be destroyed and my bones stashed away with those of the women who came before me. You want me to return to a place where I cannot have a soul, because if I do it will be used against me! You want me to face all of that, because what right do I have to deny you, who the world revolves around? I am merely a glorified servant to you, am I, a possession you can do whatever you want with-?"

(_Yes! You belong to me; that much should have been evident from the beginning-!)_

"And in the end, my reward for my services to you will be a gruesome death and nothing more?" My voice was cold, for I knew there was only one reply that he could give me. For hadn't a bloody demise been the fate of any woman he placed beside him…?

After a moment, he snarled, (_What is it you want from me, Arei?)_ Rage began to pour from him as he inquired, (_What more could I provide you with that you do not already possess? Do you want _tenderness_ from me, declarations of _love_, or simply to be the subject of my blatant _affection_?)_

I stared at the floor. No, that was not what I wanted; the entire notion repulsed me, if only because such behavior did not fit any version of the male before me. He waited for my response, and when finding that I had none, he lashed his tail violently and snarled, (_You foolish girl...do you have any idea what would happen to you if I treated you so warmly? Do you know what would have happened if those servants had found us together yesterday morning?)_

No...no I did not. I lifted my head and spied the hard glint in his eyes, the stoniness of his face. A hiss escaped him, and he stepped back. (_The woman in the position of High Priestess is meant to be a white light which counterbalances the darkness of my being. She is meant to be a pinnacle of faith and devotion to her God, and most importantly of all, _pure_. In short, she is the equivalent of a virgin bride, who upon special, sacred occasions is allowed to consummate with her intended husband. You are meant to be my consort in _all_ ways…but you cannot be bound to me in holy law, or rather, matrimony. Yes, in theory, this is a viable option, especially if it means you can produce legitimate heirs for the empire. Yet in practice, you would be signing your own death sentence.)_

His muzzle wrinkled, and his fangs gleamed in the glow of sunrise. _(Right now, you are being ignored by the factions around us – do not scoff at me, it is true! You have yet to develop into an individual who can be used to the advantage of either side, and as such, you have not felt them begin to encroach upon your life! However, if you rose to be by my side, they would pursue you like hunting dogs after wild game. On one side would be the Rebellion, who would seek to use you to destroy all I have worked to build, and then publicly defile and murder you because of what you stand for. And then, even more threatening, is the side which you belong to, for in their eyes your new-found title as my spouse would threaten the balance of power. If you were to become my lover, my wife, it would imply that you have become more than a mere woman; that, in fact, you are being made into a member of the Parthenon. This would be unacceptable. In theory, it would mean you could wield your power against any who crossed you - you could single-handedly ruin what they have worked so hard to build! In addition, your ascension would be a contradiction to their belief that a mortal, a true mortal, cannot rise to divinity! _Already_ you offend them with your past as you pollute the sacred office with _what you were_, and if you were to overtake them utterly…! They would not stand for it, Arei, if only because they could not tolerate the thought of me being swayed by one so unworthy-!)_

"And what precisely was I that they viewed me to be so vile?" Fury blazed in my voice as I remembered how he had treated me in the previous dawn, as if I were a worthless thing. Did he concur with their views that I did not belong among the likes of them...?

He peered at me with narrowed eyes, and then laughed. (_Do you truly wish to know?)_

I nodded. His gaze swept over me as if I wore nothing, and he said, (..._You were among the most base of beings, among the murderers, the thieves, the traitors, and you served them in the only way a woman without wealth or family could. Your body was their temple, and your mind was tainted with a hate which made you susceptible to the plight of the Rebellion. In short, you were a whore with ambition…and as such, your rise in status was one that those around me protested forcefully. Yet I chose you regardless of their disgust, I freed you from that wretched life...and you respond by fraternizing with my enemies!)_

...It was as if a blade had gutted me, spilling out my innards, and I stared up at him, abruptly overcome by the sensation of being sullied. I...I had been a whore...? No…_no, _that could not be...! I could not have been such a _sad_ creature...and yet, what reason did he have to conceal the truth from me now, when we were caught in the dark fire of animosity? Suddenly I remembered all of the whispers that had been spoken as I had passed through the halls of the Temple, remembered the ambiguous comments that had been made in regards to my true nature, and remembered all of the hints this very monster had given me. All had suggested that I, more so than any other being in the empire, had once possessed the greatest need to be cleansed of sin, and this, I realized, was the reason why. Against my will, tears stung in my eyes, and bowing my head to hide them, I gasped out: "I don't...I don't understand! If I disgusted you so much, then why did you choose me? Why...why not someone more appropriate for the task...?"

He approached, towering over me, and said, (_I chose you for a multitude of reasons, many of which I doubt you could fully grasp. Yet in part, I was curious to see if someone so corrupted could return to a pristine state, if given the opportunity to begin anew.)_

"...So I am merely the result of a social experiment...I am little more than a test subject in your eyes?" I whispered, my arms woven around me to hold at bay my trembling. I felt so cold, so hollow, and there was an ache in my chest that would not dissipate....

Slowly, softly, he replied,_ (…Yes. That is precisely what you are, Arei.)_

And for a second, the memory of what had occurred between us during the eve of the festival arose in my mind. "Then during that night, why did you…? After I asked, why…? If I meant nothing to you, why would you do _that_?" For I remembered well how indescribably enjoyable the lapping of his tongue had felt, even though they had mutually confused and somewhat revolted me….

(…_There was no other merciful option. I could not have mated with you.)_

My fingertips dug into my arms. "But why…?"

His pupils dilated into slits. (_If you became pregnant, the consequences would be most…unpleasant. And yes, despite the differences between my form and that of a man's, my ability to breed with your kind is a viable possibility. I discovered that much when I studied my physiology over the decades, searching in vain for the key to curing my illness. I found that I possess a pair of chromosomes specifically designed for the task of siring children outside of my own race, which I am certain would have proven handy to my creators once I reached retirement age. Once branded "lame," they may have found it pleasing to regard me as a horse, used for its seed or meat. Given the lack of members of my own species, providing me with optimal breeding capacities - akin to that of a Ditto - would have been a most efficient tweak to my design. Or perhaps they had nothing to do with it; the Mew, after all, were said to be the ancestors of all pokémon, so perhaps the ability to sire hybrids was among their many gifts. I cannot pretend to know, and it is not as if the truth behind the ability is consequential. What matters is that if I am capable of mating with a creature, there is a high likelihood that I can father offspring upon it. As such, I counted it a blessing when Christina's womb remained empty after our union.)_

What did he mean...? "I thought an heir was desirable?"

He stared, and then tossed back his head with a chuckle, though the sound was harsh and derisive. ('_Desirable,' Arei? Did I not say the notion of you becoming pregnant was an unpleasant one? Yes, it is 'desirable' to certain factions in this world, but I certainty would not wish for a child, and you should be very pleased that we did nothing that would potentially make you the mother of one! If we had, and if you had become pregnant, we would have only two options. We could declare the child as my own - that is one path. However, if we chose that route, we would condemn it to be a target of the Rebellion - who I assure you would manipulate it as they saw fit - or condemn it to become the plaything of the Temple, raised away from its parents and preened into something altogether deplorable. It might even murder its parents to assume a position of power. And then there would be you, expected to endure multiple times what you would have already suffered through once. You would be made into little more than an incubator for my heirs, an additional duty upon the role which already burdens you. Then we have the other path, in which I would instead deny the child as mine. Yet if we were to walk down that road, in the eyes of the empire you would become exactly what you once were: a whore, sullying everything and everyone you touch. The Temple would conspire against you, not celebrate you, and perhaps, for a time, the child would be safer. However, it too would eventually be gutted at the altar, its blood spilled along with yours.)_

...It was too much. Above the chaotic whirl of emotion howling within me, I said, "I see…and would you even lift a finger to stop it?"

He glared at me, his irises flashing sapphire. (_Do you believe I would not? Do you believe I would wish those fates upon my potential sons or daughters or you? I have attempted to protect your kind in the past, for I had chosen the women before you to remain by my side for far longer than two winters! I would not have willingly allowed them to be murdered! I have ordered for them not to be touched, I have warned the factions to leave them be, I have even made examples of those who dared defy me! Still my priestesses died, and after nearly forty years of seeing my chances for companionship being snatched from me, I have forcibly detached myself from them and have allowed events to unfold as they inevitably will. Yet I am not so cruel as to do nothing to help them survive. I try-.)_

"And you fail! Is that why you _touched_ me as you did? Were you attempting to provide me with some pleasantries before my execution, or was that just another perverse experiment of yours…?"

The words came out with more bitterness than I had believed myself capable of conveying…and he responded to my tone with equal ire: (_Perhaps I simply wished to know what a whore tasted like – but she proved no sweeter than I imagine any other woman would be.)_

...This would be the first and last time he would ever call me that, for as he utterly the vile word, I rose to my feet and swung. My palm smarted sharply after it had struck, as I imagined his cheek did; his skull had turned upon impact, reflecting the force of the blow. And then, seeing his stunned expression, all of my negative feelings, my pain, my horror, my fury, my grief, my confusion, my fear, my sense of feeling dirtied and betrayed, all blended and erupted within me. My mouth opened, and they condensed into one short, venomous declaration that conveyed all of what I felt for him in three simple words:

"I _hate_ you!"

Feeling my eyes sting, my throat clenching, my form shaking, I stared at our feet, unwilling to show him any sign of frailty. Through the blur of saltwater, I saw him still, his tail hang limply, and his paws flex ever so slightly. He was quiet for a long time, painful minutes passing between us. My vision sluggishly cleared, and when I glanced up again, his expression was blank, calm, and his eyes seemed glazed with frost. Then, he murmured in a crisp monotone, (…_That is fine. Your occupation by no means requires you to care for me in the slightest. As long as you honor your duties, it matters little what you feel for me. Now, if you are quite finished, we must return to the Temple. Your absence has caused something of a panic, and I would prefer not to prolong the distress of the servants, given that they have trouble functioning when routine is interrupted, and that, in turn, results in trouble for me.)_

The conversation was over; nothing more would be said. He grasped my shoulder, rather harder than he needed to, and transported us from the place that had, for a matter of hours, been my shelter from him and my occupation. Reappearing in the hallway between our quarters, he released me and turned his back upon me, entering into his own rooms immediately and closing a door between us. Minutes passed, and eventually I heard a voice calling my name. Attendant Byron, a relieved expression on his face, walked over to me from the stairwell, evidently pleased to see that I had returned. Others soon followed, ensuring that I was well taken care of with warm food and tea...and still I stared at the door, noticing suddenly that no one went to Abaddon to see how he was. Yet why should I care about the fact that the monster was being ignored? He likely preferred it that way, and he by no means deserved company, especially when he felt all humans were beneath him. And given what he had called me and done to me when I was supposed to be his "consort," the one whom he was meant to cherish above all others….

He did not deserve our concern, nor did he need it. However, even as I turned away, in someplace deep inside myself something needled at me, as if in disagreement. I had said I had hated him....

And only later would I realize that in the moment, I had crossed a line I had never strayed over before:

For in that moment of anguish…I lied.

* * *

**MEWTWO:**

…Despair.

That was all I had felt when she had said the words I knew would inevitably come. As I sat upon the edge of my bed, I focused upon the painful ache within my ribcage, attempting to adapt to it as a simple animal might, for they did not deny pain but embraced it, and as such, coped with it. And yet…I remembered well her sweet scent and bitter taste, remembered how tender her kisses and touches were, and remembered the little sounds she had made in response to my caresses. I remembered well the peace that had pervaded me when I had watched her sleep so soundly, remembered the wonder that had come from watching her dance, and remembered the joy that had come from truly speaking to another being again and feeling an inkling of _connection_. And most of all, the memory of how she had felt in my arms, providing me with solace, _lingered_.

And now….

A lamp, its glass colored and embellished by one of the finest glassblowers in the land, levitated from my table as if lifted by invisible hands…and those invisible hands threw it against the wall, causing it to shatter into a hundred pieces. Razor sharp and gleaming, the shards glittered on the floor, and in the end, that lamp would be but one of the valuable possessions I destroyed that night. However, I did not care for their loss, for what did material things matter…? I peered out of the window at the rising moon, and then lowered my face in my hands....

"_I_ hate _you!"_

…The echo of warmth in my arms faded. For nothing, not even the moment that you treasure the most, ever lasts....

* * *

**Author's Note: **...And I think I filled my angst quota for the month. About seventy percent of what you just read was completely new to this chapter; yes, I kept the basic celebration, the dancing, Arei's collapse, and her journey into the city and pub the same…but beyond that, most of this was from the top of my head. The most important part, of course, was the argument and this last segment by Mewtwo. Suffice to say this will make matters _so_ much clearer in the next chapter, and I am now comfortable with saying that Mewtwo has lost the battle not to feel affection for Arei. Despite some of the nasty comments he made (not to mention the _lies_), he cares far more for Arei than she gives him credit. Anyhow, **please review with your thoughts**!

Until next time,

Abby

P.S. - I am uncertain as to how many more chapters I can release this summer, considering the circumstances with the computer. By my calculations we have about eight more chapters left, but that may change as I fiddle with where which chapters begin and end. Thank you for your continued patience with me.


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